


Loyalty to What Matters

by DryLeafs



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Abuse, Angst with a Happy Ending, Betrayal, Eventual Smut, F/M, Friendship, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Love Confessions, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Slow Build, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 08:54:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 68,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23968693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DryLeafs/pseuds/DryLeafs
Summary: Story completed!! Arthur rescues a girl who joins them and bears witness to many of the ordeals that the Van der Linde gang struggles through. She quickly and hopelessly falls in the love with the sullen cowboy and their relationship evolves. Both with tumultuous pasts, they establish a confusing bond. They come through for each other multiple times but I dont want to reveal too much!Spoilers if you haven't yet played the game.This story takes place in two major parts and is really designed as a suggested alternative to how things ended for Arthur in the game.The first part sees the two main characters meet and follow along plot points that happened in the game (without changing anything!). The second part will take place after the game should have ended.Now, some things will be a stretch, let’s be real, this is a story about overcoming a sickness that was impossible to treat for a long time! There is sexual content and violent themes so be prepared for that too! But if you’re good with all that, put on your best Arthur voice and sit back!
Relationships: Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 23
Kudos: 62





	1. The Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my story! If you are looking for love and salvation for Arthur (that makes sense!) without ignoring the details that made the game so heart wrenching then here it is.  
> I focused on making Arthur as real to the game character as possible, so put on your best Arthur voice. I also tried to make the story really fit into the rdr world as realistically as possible, so there is some slow development.

Chapter 1: The Meeting  
/This is an Athur-deserves-better/ Arthur Lives story, but I've really tried to keep tone and the main themes of the game. Part 1 of this story follows the events of the game closely, and sees Arthur follow through with things he experienced in the game. Part 2 will show the alternative ending. It's a slow burn, but the devil is in the details if you want to make something believable! Now, some things will be a stretch, let's be real, this is a story about overcoming a sickness that was only recently curable! There is sexual content and themes so be prepared for that too! But if you're good with all that, put on your best Arthur voice and sit back!/  
The day they met, she couldn't possibly know everything he would come to mean to her. And how quickly. Her past would melt away, and be replaced with a pain that was a longing, deep and welcomed one.  
"The cabin's in the clearin' down there". The nervous captive said. "There'll be a bunch of fellers hiding out in there too".  
"They armed?" The gruff quick-shot questioned.  
"Armed. Drunk. Wary of strangers. Yep."  
"And Colm O'Driscoll?"  
"Oh, he'll be holed up in his cabin. Be passed out, boozed up likely as not!" the captive replied.  
"Hey over there... Someone's coming." Bill waved his gun in the direction of a group of gang members.  
Three O'Driscoll's appeared, arguing among themselves, unaware that the eyes of the Van der Linde gang, and one of their own, watched them from a distance.  
"Whaddar we doing about the pisser Morgan?" Bill whispered. "The one by the tree..."  
Arthur directed the group to move in slowly. He crept ahead, eyes on the closest O'Driscoll. Confident the man's back was turned to him, Arthur quickly plunged a knife into the man's throat and quietly laid the body to the ground.  
His eyes then focused on the other two O'Driscolls. He aimed the knife at the back of one of their skulls. If he was lucky, and that's a big if, he could get them both with throwing knives.  
With significant ability, he harnessed his focus to land the bullseye. It was the same mental process that he had mastered back when he was younger, so young. He recalled firing his first shot, the consequences that followed and the lives lost.  
The two men drop to the ground. Arthur looked back at Bill and John, beckoning them to move up. Bill's jaw slightly ajar, he exhaled sharply and beckoned to John to follow.  
The three approached the camp, surveying the patrol.  
"Lets move hard, and fast" Arthur grumbled.  
"Ready?" asks John, his hand hovering over his pistol.  
"Ready." Bill confirmed.  
In an instant, the air was filled with the sound of gunshots, bullets ricocheting off trees, rocks, wood. The taunting calls of both parties, taunting each other on. The three outlaws swerved in and out of cover, more cautious than the O'Driscolls, and more deliberate.  
"They're turning tail!" Yelled John.  
"Leave 'em." replied Arthur, "Colm's still here."  
Silence fell over the desert camp.  
John carefully navigated through the camp ground, eyes scanning the corpses for loot, and listening for returning footsteps. With careful placement of each step, he began to loot pockets and satchels as Arthur moved towards the cabin. The cabin was still and silent. Arthur stepped over the stairs and slowly pushed open the creaking door.  
To his alarm, the door flew open, colliding with him and sending him to the ground with great force. In a split second he looked up to meet the end of a shotgun pointed to his face. The assailant grinned from ear to ear, and opened his mouth to gloat in the compromising position Arthur found himself in.  
Bang! The echo of an errant gunshot rattled off the frame of the small cabin.  
Blood spurted from the O'Driscol's side, and he fell to the ground, choking. Five seconds ago, Arthur had been upright, about to open the door and now he lay on the ground, miraculously not dead.  
"You alright!?" His captive, Kieran had saved his life.  
"Sure... Thank you." Arthur forced, still on the ground.  
John had been pocketing some trinkets when he heard the gunshot. He made eye contact with Bill and they rushed over. By the time the got there, Arthur was emerging from the cabin, with his gun pointed to Kieran's head.  
"You set us up!"  
"No, I didn't!" Kieran raised his hands up.  
"He ain't here!"  
"But he was! I swear! Wh...If I was setting you up, would I have saved you?!" Kieran pleaded.  
"Heh heh...its a good point Arthur." Bill said, arriving on scene.  
John watched Arthur and Kieran exchange words. Those words ended with Kieran bartering his adoption into the Van der Linde gang. John couldn't help but chuckle. Then again, maybe he earned it more than a few others he could think of.  
"Bill, you tell Dutch ol' Kieran ain't worth killing... just yet!" Arthur yelled over his shoulder.  
Bill smirked and the three of them disappeared into the trees, leaving Arthur alone.  
Arthur's eyes adjusted to the dark cabin light. Grey daylight forced its way in through the tattered fabric curtains. He sighed heavily, rubbing where the door briefly met his face. He made his way around the room, swiping trinkets off the counters and supplies from the cupboard. At the centre of the room lay a table where a card game had been ongoing. Money clips of no great amount lay about, and he promptly pocketed them. His glanced over cigarette pack which lay abandoned on the table. He pulled out a cigarette and put it to his lips, studying the cigarette card that lay on the table and striking a match.  
Suddenly, he caught something move from the corner of his eye. Arthur felt a chill run down him as he realized he was not alone in the cabin. He stared into the dark corner of the room. He sensed something was there but he hadn't made it out yet.  
The cigarette hung loosely from his lips as he slowly hovered his hand over his gun. He took one step closer to the darkness. The silence was loud. There hadn't been a single noise in the cabin, aside from his own footsteps since he arrived. Now he was aware of a deliberate silence that emanated from the corner of the cabin. His heavy footsteps were hollow on the floorboards.  
He began to relax.  
At this point, if there were a threat, Arthur would know it by now. He took another heavy step forward.  
The cabin was small and he could already make out a bed against the corner of the cabin. As he approached he could make out the sullied sheets that lay strewn over the bed. Arthur's eyes scanned the bed and found nothing there except a lock box sticking out from the corner of the crooked bed. He lowered himself to one knee to pry it open.  
His eyes met the mattress, full of blood and dirt from boots. And then his eyes met another pair of eyes.  
He was immobilized, his instincts failed him, he was in trouble. The cigarette fell from his lips,  
But then, nothing, only silence. Silence and two wide and terrified eyes, staring back at him from the dark. He slowly stood up, neither of them making a sound. His eyes adjusted to the silhouette. It was the face of a girl staring across at him. He made out that the silhouette had hunkered herself between the bed and the wall in attempt to hide.  
"Oh... ma'am... you're OK, I ain't gonna harm you." Arthur said gently.  
He took a healthy step back with his hands visible to her.  
The girl stared back at him, never blinking in the dark. Her one arm gripping the mattress, her eyes followed him.  
"I suppose they was your gang... I'm sorry you had to hear that."  
No response.  
"Ok... Ma'am I ain't gonna hurt you, I'm going to leave you in peace once I get what I came in here for." Arthur relaxed a bit.  
Confidently, he turned his back to her and continued his search for the stash of money. He could feel her eyes drill holes into him, but he wasn't bothered or intimidated. He could hear her shifting her weight on the bed and swore the girl was holding her breath.  
"No...Nothing here..." he murmured to himself.  
He moved over to the fireplace.  
"There we go."  
He grabbed a wad of cash from behind a ledge in the chimney. He glanced over at the girl briefly to find she had migrated to the mattress now, still awkwardly positioned between the bed and the wall. He turned around to leave. As he approached the door he stopped.  
"You ok...Miss?" he said one final time.  
Again, he received no answer. He sighed to himself and walked back to the bed.  
"Here." he tossed some money on the mattress.  
She'd probably have to start over since they did kill all the folks she ran with. As he toss the money, she jerked back in fear, and the sound of rattling chains accompanied her movement.  
"Ah. You uh, ain't one of them, is you. Look Miss, you don't have to chat with me, but if you need some help you ought to say something. I'm a bad man, but I ain't them. I ain't gonna hurt you." Arthur stood with his hands on his belt, waiting for her reply.  
Her eyes dragged over him with all the mannerisms of a whipped dog. She seemed to breath for the first time since he walked into the room. She avoided eye contact and lifted her arm, revealing she was fastened.  
"Can you please help?" she asked quietly.  
She pointed to the door, to the man had been shot by Keiran. Arthur understood and walked to the door. Arthur pushed the door open and the girl squinted at the bright yellow light that poured through. She watched him roll the corpse over, like a cat with a mouse, patting him down. He located the keys and let the corpse drop with a hollow thud.  
She held her hand out for him to unlock the cuffs. His large hand grabbed her wrist with a surprising amount of care and unlocked the shackles. With his attention on the cuffs, she felt comfortable to scan his features. Was he the law? The sound of the handcuffs unlocking snapped her out of it. She gasped with excitement, and quickly pulled her hand out, cradling it.  
"Oh... oh I don't believe it.. oh thank you mister!" her breath was rapid.  
"Don't mention it." Arthur said, adjusting his hat.  
He left the cabin, momentarily blinded by the setting sun. He whistled for his horse and scanned the area once more. The evening birds were singing and the sun was beginning to set.  
"Hey, there girl." he greeted, hoisting himself up onto the saddle.  
The horse jerked her head up and down playfully as Arthur took some findings from his satchel and stored them on the saddle bag. He glanced up and saw the girl had exited the cabin. She hunkered over, leaning against the cabin wall. She shielded her eyes from the sun. Arthur could see she had been badly cared for. She was a tiny girl to begin with but the weakness in which she held herself indicated to him that she hadn't eaten or slept well in a while. He could only imagine why they tied her to the bed. The O'Driscoll's were out to make a name for themselves as depraved and corrupt group controlled by one man. In the end, they wanted the law to pay them off, and to answer to no one. In the meantime, they acted like savages. There was no crime they would not commit.  
Finally her eyes adjusted to the outside light. It had been so long since she'd been outside in the day. The O'Driscolls dragged her out of the cabin only at night time to use the washroom, or to bathe in the nearby water. The sun was going down and it felt warm on her skin, but her bones were still freezing. Her eyes focused on the campsite and she turned white.  
At least a dozen bodies lay strewn around the campsite. The same people singing loudly at night, shooting the breeze all day long, fighting among themselves and puking from over consumption now lay lifelessly sprawled about camp.  
She became aware of the humming sound of flies.  
They did this... That man, and his comrades.  
That man!  
"Wait!" She yelled, hoarsely. "Sir? Can you wait?"  
She spotted the tall man on his horse and she prudently walked down the stairs. It caused her pain to even walk. Everything hurt for so many reasons.  
"Miss?" Arthur looked down at her, sympathetically.  
In the orange hue of the setting sun, he studied her. Her long, dark blonde hair was matted and fall over her shoulders. Her dress was torn at the collar, allowing it to hang a bit low, revealing more of her chest than intended. He could see where tears had left trails of clean skin from her face, down her chest. She had many cuts and bruises. Her lip was cut, and a faint yellow tinge around her cheek bone indicated a healing bruise.  
"Please... I have no idea where I am, or what to do, and..." Arthur interrupted her.  
"I can take you to a near-by town. Closest one is Valentine. I'll take you there and..."  
"I don't know that place..." She interrupted. "I've never been anywhere but where I came from."  
Her voice wavered, she was overwhelmed.  
"That's ok, I'll take you to the Sheriff's office and he can sort you out. He'll find a way to send you back home."  
"You don't understand..." She mumbled, though Arthur couldn't really make it out.  
She didn't want to go back where she came from, she had nothing and no one. His hand dropped in front of field of view. The same hand that uncuffed her. She didn't think twice about grabbing it.  
Arthur hoisted her up in front of him. Her legs hug over the side and her body was heavier than Arthur expected, too weary to hold her own weight anymore.  
Cradled between his arm and his chest, she could smell the scent of campfire and wind off his clothes. Along with the lingering smell of gun smoke. Arthur clicked his tongue and the horse started moving.  
She let her self rock with the motion of the saddle, safe now against her rescuer. The scenery she had been deprived of slowly scrolled by. Her eyes closed a bit. She felt so comfortable. The closest she's ever been to safety in a very long time.  
"You still with me?" Arthur said looking down a bit.  
She made an affirming noise.  
"Can I ask your name, Miss?"  
"...Annabel". She responded.  
"Annabel. Arthur." He reciprocated. "How long were you there? With the O'Driscolls?'  
He saw her brow furrow. She either didn't know who they were, or she didn't know how long she'd been there.  
"Oh... I really don't know anymore." She murmured dreamily. "Weeks, at least? Maybe a couple months? I...don't know."  
Arthur detected a slight accent, or at least, a strange pronunciation of words.  
She let her head roll heavily against his chest again. Her eyes closed. She was awake but barely.  
She felt a cold wind pick up, tossing dirt and leaves with its force. Her stomach was burning, she was so hungry but everything else felt so good. Her head was pounding but at the same time, everything was ok now. She continued drifting in and out. She dreamt the stranger left her back at the cabin. Then she dreamt again that this had all been a dream and she was still chained to the bed. She dreamt that she fell in love with this man and grew old with him. The wind was getting colder and it rained lightly on and off.  
Her heavy eyes peered down at his hands that lazily held the reigns. They were strong hands. But they killed, didn't they? No, she thought, maybe they didn't. Maybe he was a gang leader and he had everyone else do the killing. Maybe his hands were clean. Maybe.  
It was late evening when Arthur arrived to Valentine. The sound of piano drifted out of the pub as he rode leisurely by, his guest seemingly asleep against him. He hitched his horse near the gun shop and looked over his shoulder to the sheriff's office.  
"Miss Annabel, we have arrived at your destination." His gruff voice stirred her awake.  
She felt a tension begin to form deep in her chest. The next uncertain part of her journey was about to begin and she felt homesick at the thought of leaving Arthur.  
He helped her off the horse.  
"Mr. Arthur, I don't know that the Sheriff can help me, really." She twisted her hands, nervously.  
"Just Arthur is fine. I think the Sheriff is the most likely person to be able to help you. You still got that cash?"  
Annabel nodded yes.  
"Good now, one other thing." He moved in closer to her, towering over her and her breath caught in her throat.  
"I don't need to be involved in the story of how your captors met their end, do you understand? As far as your story goes, you escaped, somehow, I met you on the road and offered you a ride. That's it. Ok? Good. Lets go."  
Annabel, too tired to fight for what she wanted, followed behind. He was menacing and intimidating in his words. But it didn't stop her from dreading his departure.  
It occurred to her that there was a whole town to explore. A town with sights, sounds, and things she hadn't been exposed too. But she was too tried to be curious about it. She watched Arthur walk in front of her. He stood tall, and strong. He was resilient and sure. His bandolier hung over his shoulder, and her eyes followed it down to his two holsters. Two. There was no way his hands were clean, she admitted.  
As he approached the building, she felt an ache in her chest. She wanted to tell him everything. She wanted to tell him that she suddenly decided she should stay with him forever. That she didn't complain much and she could be a good companion. She didn't know how to cook or sew but she could learn!  
Arthur opened the door to the Sheriffs office. The Sheriff lay back in his chair, his feet crossed on his desk. Annabel took one look at the man, and felt a tremble inside her. She hated the uncertainty of the situation. She recoiled, staying on the outside of the door.  
"Well... Lookie here. Maybe this is our man." The sheriff said, somewhat surprised to see someone so late in the evening.  
"You a bounty hunter, Mister?" The deputy rose from his seat to address Arthur.  
"No, sir. I found a lost person and I thought maybe you could help them."  
"This ain't no lost and found. Unless they a criminal?"  
"I reckon they ain't a criminal. She was kidnapped by O'Driscolls. I don't know how she got away, but I told her I'd give her a lift and the good lawmen in Valentine would be sure to set her in the right direction."  
"Well... I can't do much, but sure. Bring her in. On one condition son. You take that bounty poster and bring in Mr. Albright. You bring me what I need, and I'll take your guest. I know you got it in you son, I can smell it off you." The Sheriff gestured to the poster on the wall.  
Arthur walked over to the poster, leaving Annabel in the doorway. He examined the poster, folded it up, and put it in his pocket.  
"I'm guessing you ain't gonna be handing over the $50 for this, huh?" Arthur snarked.  
The Sheriff shook his head no, with a slight smile.  
"You do that for me, and I wont ask any other questions."  
Arthur exhaled. He turned to Annabel and gestured her to come in.  
"Ok, Miss Annabel, this is were our roads part. The Sheriff can help you out, you just tell him where you need to go. Best of luck, Miss." Arthur tilted his hat.  
Her eyes were frantically searching as her mind ran through things she could say. Above all, she didn't want to be left alone in a strange place.  
Arthur closed the door behind him.  
Her mouth hung open and she watched him disappear from the window. She couldn't say exactly why she felt so close to him and why his departure caused so much turmoil within her. Was it because he saved her? Most definitely it was. She admired how capable he was. A stark contrast to her, who was easy to push around. She was weak. He was strong.  
Surely no one could manipulate him.  
She snapped out of it, remembering the Sheriff in the room.  
"Well... um, ahm. Miss, take a seat. Annabel was it? Miss Annabel?" the sheriff got up clumsily and pulled out a chair for her.  
She plopped down in it, deciding she didn't like his face enough to meet his eyes.  
"Why don't you tell me what happen? Man just dropped you off here? You know him? Did he hurt you?"  
He leaned back on his desk, arms crossed in front of her. He was a tall, older man. He seemed knowledgeable and if she was being honest, he seemed condescending.  
"No." She growled, not sure why she hated the Sheriff so instantly. "He didn't hurt me and I don't know him."  
"So what happened to you?" the sheriff pressed.  
"I was kidnapped by a gang. I don't know how long but I got away." She said in a monotone voice.  
"My Lord, you poor thing." The sheriff said. "Well, you can certainly stay here, I can help you get back on your feet. Do you have family? A place to go?"  
"No. I don't."  
"No family? A husband, surely?" the sheriff pressed again.  
"No, sir." She belonged to no one, and everyone.  
"Well, come this way dear, we'll get you cleaned up and fed!" The sheriff moved behind her to guide her towards the back of the office where his quarters were.  
Cleaned up and fed sounded really good to her. The Sheriff set up a washing station for her. He put out cloths and water.  
"I'll get us some food, you take your time. If you need anything, holler real loud, ok?"  
Annabel nodded. She even smiled a little. He closed the door behind him.  
It felt so good to be alone for the first time in a long time. And in a way, free, for the first time in forever.  
She undressed, her clothes were dirty and full of rips. She kicked them to the floor. She did her best to wash herself being mindful of the cuts and bruises and the pain. She ignored the pain that shot up into her. It would wear off. Everyday, she became less and less attached to her physical body and its condition.  
Her mind wandered to the night the O'Driscolls took her. She reflected on her last moments with the homestead master.  
"Now dear, please, stop arguing with me over this, I think its the right business move! I've cultivated a good profit for us so far, and yes, the times are changing, but – no no no let me finish dearest, I really believe this is the right step for our plantation."  
A very angry wife sat beside her rather daunting husband as they bickered back and forth. He was Mr. Byrant. He ran a homestead. His crops failed, but financially he remained successful.  
Annabel watched them limply. She turned her attention to the outdoor scenery as the carriage rode past the landscape. She hadn't been outside of Byrant's property since she arrived at least 10 years ago. Usually, she wasn't allowed outside the house. But this was special. This was a special trip, he was going to be away for many weeks and he needed her with him.  
Annabel's brow furrowed as she peered out the window, and noticed many men riding towards them from the woods.  
So many men. All concealing their face. With guns drawn, they galloped towards the elaborate carriage, hollering and yelling.  
"Dear God, what is this about?" Said Byrant, craning his neck to see out the window.  
She snapped back into her present reality. Washing her neck and fighting off the memories that followed. She twist and turned in the foggy mirror to examine herself. Her body was full of bruises but she didn't care. She got dressed back into her torn clothes and left the bathing room.  
The Sheriff's face poked out from down the small hallway.  
"Oh good, you're out! This way, I have set up supper in here!"  
Annabel said nothing as she walked down the hall. The Sheriff sat at a small table with two bowls of food, two glasses and a pitcher of water. He beckoned for her to sit, and pulled out her chair.  
"Please eat! I'm Sheriff Malloy. Curtis Malloy."  
Annabel reciprocated with her name, unable to remember if she had introduced herself previously. She reached out a hand to him and he took it gently.  
"Now. I've been thinking about your predicament Miss Annabel, and I'd sure love to help you but I don't know how. Is there a place you'd like to get safe passage to? No? And... no one is waiting for you?"  
She shook her head no, barely listening. She examined the bruises the cuffs had left on her wrist.  
She saw Arthur's hand, extending to her from the darkness and unclasping the handcuffs.  
Suddenly realizing she had been silent for a some time, her eyes shot upwards, startled that she had missed something while in a daze. Sheriff Malloy was sitting, one leg crossed over the other, seemingly pensive.  
"You know what Annabel? You can stay with me here."  
He paused, as if to study her reaction. She stared doe-eyed at him, wondering what she has missed in the conversation.  
"You know I'm a busy man who takes care of this town and I would sure love a woman's hand around here. I know you would be welcomed in town also."  
She didn't respond.  
The Sheriff promptly continued his proposition, discontent with her lack of enthusiasm so far.  
"Well, you could go out on your own. It might be difficult without any acquaintances."  
Annabel could only reply with a confused sound. What would be the worst that could happen if she ran away? Would living in poverty be worse than how she had lived in the past? What if she agreed to stay with him? He wouldn't be the worst person she'd slept with, and surely that's what it would come to.  
"Oh, well I understand it's sudden! I thought you would see the potential, as a woman in your condition. I don't think you'd have much luck out there on your own, is all I'm saying, dear." The Sheriff nodded condescendingly towards her.  
Annabel was not surprised his tone had changed. She realized her predicament probably would affect her chances of having a comfortable life. This made her heart sink even more. Staring down at her hands, she could only think of Arthur and his calm eyes. She couldn't get him out of her mind.  
"Please, just let me think about it." Annabel finally replied.  
"I shall. I'm a patient man after all. Come, I'll show you to your room for the night."  
He showed her to a small room with a tiny window. He bid her goodnight and closed the door.  
How strange to sleep alone in a proper bed for the first time in so long.  
Was that the sound of the door locking? Her eyes fixed on the shadow that disappeared from beneath the door. She stood frozen in the dark room, perfectly quiet. She listened to his footsteps disappear down the tiny hall. She gingerly stepped towards the door and carefully tried the handle. Locked. He locked her in.  
Annabel laid on the bed. If she was going to run away, she certainly wouldn't have done it tonight. He was not a terrible man, most likely, but he was certainly dishonourable. She lay her head down and fell sleep almost instantly.  
"Come on, Miss, let's get you outta here." Arthur's gruff voice ran strong in her ear, and his hand appeared in front of her.  
She shot up to meet his gaze.  
He wasn't there. It was only a dream. The sun streamed through the tiny window. She held her aching head, before hauling herself to her feet. Testing her bedroom door, she found it opened now.  
Combing her fingers through her hair, she cautiously walked down the hall and down the stairs. She called out meekly, but received no answer. She looked around in the room they had eaten supper in the night before. The night before when the Sheriff sprung his shady proposition to her. She noticed the water was still on the table and drank a glass.  
She heard heavy and fast footsteps behind her. She spun around and saw Sheriff Malloy standing in the door way.  
"Good morning, dear." He said, leaning against the door frame. "Hope you slept well?"  
"I did!" Annabel forced cheerfully.  
"Glad to hear it. I hope we didn't get off on the wrong foot last night. I didn't mean to come on too strong. I do hope you'll consider my suggestion. There is cooking to be done here and cleaning, and for room and good company, I think it is a good exchange."  
There was a dissonance in his tone that confused Annabel. His words were kind but his tone and his body language were daunting.  
"Thank you. I could use some air." Annabel whispered, careful to not let her alarm come out through her voice.  
He was very close to her now, she could smell the stale cigar stench from his hair.  
"Let me take you outside. You can take in the morning air and let the townsfolk see you a bit." He offered his arm which she took.  
The bright sunlight hit her eyes hard, in the same way the evening sun had hit her when she emerged from the cabin the night before. She recalled all the bodies of the depraved men who'd attacked her, sprawled out dead. And Arthur, on his horse against the silhouette of the trees.  
"Here, just you take a seat dear. Enjoy the air. My partner will be in soon and I can come out and join you later."  
Annabel took a seat on the bench. The Sheriff turned to her before leaving.  
"I have something special planned for you, dear. An apology of sorts. I promise you'll like it."  
Annabel knew she wouldn't but forced a smile.  
Looking around town was a feast for her eyes. In all her life, she'd never been in a town or seen so many people bustling about. Her eyes darted around, unable to focus on one thing at a time. She heard a young boy yelling into the streets, clutching newspapers to his chest. She saw men carrying lumber, work wagons hauling supplies, ladies carrying baskets between shops. She noticed two men sitting across the road from her, she could just barely hear them talking and lost herself in their conversation. They were normal and friendly, they bantered over the luck they'd had hunting. She watched them for several minutes, until a large horse obscured her view.  
"Please sir!" A strong southern accent twanged. "My temperature is subnorm...Ooof!" The man was lifted from the back of the horse and thrown over a shoulder. Annabel's expression instantly perked when she saw that it was Arthur.  
"I, A-Arthur!" she stuttered, springing to her feet.  
"Miss Annabel! Good to see you." He nodded in a friendly manner. "I have a delivery to make on your behalf." He said, bowing his head in good humour as he passed her and entered the Sheriffs office.  
"I am a sick man, sir! You would do well to put me down!" The captive squirmed as the door closed behind him.  
Her lip curled a bit at the sight of him struggling for his freedom.  
"This is it." She murmured to herself.  
She looked through the window of the Sheriff's office. She frustrated herself trying to figure out why she wanted to be with him so badly. Maybe it was because he saved her, and maybe that was a good enough reason. Maybe it was something deeper, maybe it was an instinct. Maybe he somehow represented her last chance for true freedom. It didn't matter though.  
She clenched her fists. If she was going to make a change for herself, it would be now. She stared at the floorboards, listening to the muffled voices inside the building, waiting for Arthur to emerge.  
Finally, the door opened and she immediately snapped to attention.  
"Well Miss, I wish you the best. I h-"  
"Wait, please." Annabel stepped in front of him. "Arthur, I can't stay here."  
"Why not?" Arthur questioned.  
"The Sheriff, well..." She shook her head in frustration.  
At the best of times, she had a hard time expressing herself. She felt ashamed to recount her concerns knowing they were based only on feelings.  
"Ugh, I just don't trust him."  
Arthur chuckled, to her surprise.  
"Well, you and I have that in common. You don't really need to trust him though, you just need to get on your feet, so you can get where you want to go. It'll be fine."  
Arthur side stepped around her, but quickly she grabbed his arm.  
"No!" she said firmly, surprising herself. "No. I've told you, I don't have anywhere to go. And he knows that."  
She paused to regain her composure, releasing his arm and recoiling from eye contact.  
"He asked me to stay with him. I'm not sure what type of person he is, but I think he was trying to tell me that if I didn't, it would be a mistake or...something."  
Annabel flung her hands as she tried to remember Malloy's exact words.  
"What're you sayin'? He threatened you?" Arthur rested his hands on his belt and looked past Annabel into the window.  
Her face flushed with embarrassment.  
"I don't know if I just took it that way or... I don't know. But I don't trust him. Look, its more than that. He locked me in the spare room last night."  
There was now an anxious quality to her voice.  
"Then he said he had something special planned and that...I don't know, but, but, the point is, he isn't trying to help me."  
Arthur rubbed the scruff along his jaw, presumably processing what she told him. The seconds seemed to crawl by at a snails pace as Annabel watched him.  
He wasn't entirely surprised. He chose the Sheriff specifically because he assumed leaving Annabel alone in town would amount to a situation similar to what she was describing.  
"All that happened since I went to get that bounty, huh..."  
"I'm not lying." Annabel insisted.  
"No Miss, I don't reckon you are..." He took a breath. "Alright. Come with me."  
Annabel's face instantly lifted. Arthur couldn't help but smile. He hadn't noticed what delicate features she had until then. She had obviously had a chance to bathe and he could see now she not entirely unattractive. She wrapped her dark blond hair to a shoulder. Her wide eyes usually cast downwards, now fixed on him with hopefulness. In the light of day, without dirt or blood, he could see she was a beautiful girl.  
"Thank you! Let's go quick!" Annabel urged.  
Arthur got on his horse, pulling Annabel up behind him. The horse cantered through the crowded road.  
"I'll take you to the train station, we can decide from there where you ought to go. There are lots of..."  
"What? N-no, I... no, I don't want to take a train." Annabel could feel herself getting agitated again.  
It was all so overwhelming for her. At once, she was out in the world, on her own for the first time in her entire life. Yet with every step there was some hurdle to overcome. It felt impossible. She could hear herself trip over her words and stutter.  
"Ok, and whats wrong with trains now?" Arthur somewhat teased as he steered his horse through the crowd to find a clear path.  
He looked back at the Sheriff's office to make sure Malloy hadn't seen him make off with his guest.  
"I am not joking, I don't have anywhere to go. You put me on a train, to anywhere, and I will wind up somewhere alone. I've never even been to a town like this."  
"Well, where did you live before the O'Driscolls got you?" Arthur nodded to a man passing by. "Were you homeless?"  
"No, I lived on a homestead. I was a servant..." Her words dragged a bit.  
"Ok, where was that?"  
"I don't really know."  
"Look, darling, you aren't giving me much to work with here."  
Annabel flushed horribly, but to her relief, he couldn't see.  
"You remember anything? The name of the estate? Who was the owner?"  
"No, but..." Annabel thought back to the carriage attack. "He might not even be alive anymore. Those men, the O'Driscolls, they attacked our carriage when we were riding through. They attacked everyone and they took me. He may be dead anyway."  
"Yeah he very well maybe... You don't sound too upset about that." Arthur questioned.  
"He bought me when I was young, it wasn't a choice to be there."  
"Hmm... still, servant isn't an all bad gig."  
"Maybe."  
They arrived at the train station. She held on to his shoulders as he lowered her down. Maybe she held on just a bit too long. His shoulders were solid and to her, he seemed like he could solve anyone's problems.  
"Alright, so what do you want to do, then?" He asked.  
Annabel couldn't think of an answer to his question.  
"Look the train goes to... Well, anywhere in West Elizabeth really. Strawberry, that's a bit more South. Saint Denis, haven't been there myself. Rhodes is... kinda... shitty place, I think."  
She felt the tears well up in her eyes as he went on.  
"What? You crying for what?" Arthur asked, with an unrefined coarseness.  
"Can I come with you Arthur? Just until I figure this out!" She held back her tears, but her voice faltered.  
Arthur stalled for a minute, vocalizing a groan. His eyes hit the ground. He saw her tattered dress.  
"Well... I don't exactly live in a house Miss." He said, hoping it would discourage her on the off chance she accidentally took him for a rich man.  
"You'd have more luxury here, let's put it that way." He met her glassy eyes.  
"I don't care." She said, so quietly.  
Arthur's hands clasped his belt, and he shifted his stance. She actually might do well at camp. She would have the other women to bond with. And they were a special breed of women, strong and smart, who've been through their own unique hells. But it was risky to bring her with him only to let her go later. What if she brought the law back... He looked up at her again, her eyes so fixed on his every movement.  
No, she wouldn't tell anyone anything. He knew that much.  
"I live in a camp with others. We sleep in tents, we cook by campfire. Everyone pulls their weight." Arthur tried one more time to discourage her.  
Annabel frowned a bit, she had a hard time picturing it. They could live in a barn and she wouldn't care.  
"That's fine!" He blurted.  
Arthur sighed.  
"Fine. We'll give this a shot."  
"Oh thank you, thank you for this!" Annabel grabbed his hands tightly.  
"Yeah, ok. You'll probably regret it later." Arthur joked. "Some characters there... Look I gotta run in and pick up some mail. Wait here."  
She nodded, her eyes fixed on him as he walked towards the station.  
"Hey buddy," someone called to Arthur. "Hey mister! Mister! I never learned your name! Your like a brother and..."  
Annabel watched as Arthur reluctantly paused to interact with a homeless looking man. The stranger appeared to be missing an arm but he seemed to know Arthur.  
Annabel's eyes were drawn again to the guns that hung from his sides. He had two smaller guns on either side of his waist and a third gun hanging of his back. She admittedly knew very little about this man. She knew he killed, though she tried to pretend he didn't at first. She wasn't worried about where he was taking her, or who he was. She was worried about the fact that she wasn't worried at all. She shook her head as if to stave off these spiralling thoughts. She was presented with a unique chance to leave her old life behind. If she wanted to follow the handsome gun slinger, then she should just do it. The worst had already happened to her.  
"And then I said, your name ain't Jimmy, its Mickey..!" the stranger continued.  
Annabel watched Arthur, seemingly annoyed and yet relatively patient as the homeless man rattled on.  
She glanced behind her. What if the Sheriff came looking for her? How long had she been gone? He said he was going to come back out, surely he would notice soon. Her eyes darted, filing through all the people to see if the Sheriff was among them. She looked back at the station and noticed Arthur was gone.  
She began to panic a bit at the notion of the Sheriff returning in Arthur's absence. He would haul her back, and no one would help her because he was the Sheriff. He was important and she was not. In fact, Arthur would probably let him take her too, he wouldn't cross a Sheriff for her.  
"Please hurry..." she glanced back and forth from the road to the station.  
Finally Arthur emerged from the station, stuffing some mail in his coat pocket. Relief swept over her body.  
"Alright, you ready?" Arthur asked, getting up on the horse.  
"Its a bit of a ride," he explained, patting the horse's neck. "So get comfortable."  
Clinging to his waist, she watched the little town disappear behind her.  
"I've never seen a horse like this" Annabel tried breaking the silence. She was unimpressed with her weak attempt at conversation.  
"Yeah? I sort of just got her... But she's strong and she's brave. Good qualities." Arthur replied. "You must seen horses at your homestead?"  
"I worked inside..." Annabel said, ready to divert the topic. "Thank you again, for bringing me. I feel much better getting space from... all that"  
Arthur nodded.  
He presumed that she was desperate to get far away from what happened. He felt her head rest against his back. She was enormously trusting for someone who had such a fierce brush with the O'Driscols. That stood out to him as odd. They rode in silence for most of the trip. Though he couldn't say for certain, Arthur was quite sure she had fallen asleep.


	2. Turbulent Introductions

Chapter 2: Turbulent Introductions  
Horseshoe Overlook.  
It was a good hide out, hidden concealed by trees and deep in the woods. He started to think about what he would tell Dutch now that the female population was slowly matching the male population. They had just recently picked up Mrs. Adler and she was still a wreck.  
"Who's there?" someone shouted from the trees.  
"Its Arthur!" He yelled out.  
Annabel startled from her sleep, squeezed Arthur slightly.  
"And a guest." He added.  
"Oh-ho...!" Lenny emerged, holding his rifle lazily over his shoulder. "A guest or a captive?"  
Lenny caught sight of the girl and his expression changed, respectfully, as he noted her condition. He assumed if she was being brought her, there was a reason for it.  
"She's a guest. How're things?"  
"Nice n' quiet. Heard that O'Driscoll boy saved your skin, Arthur!" Lenny teased.  
"Yeah...Yeah, he did. In exchange I didn't kill him." Arthur continued riding to the camp.  
The reality of Annabel's decision began to sink in. She could make out people in the woods, holding guns, pacing around.  
What was this place?  
They finally emerged from the trees to a clearing. Annabel saw tents, lean-tos, campfires, tables, and people. Folk walking to and fro, mostly busy. Carrying bags, food, guns... What a lively place.  
"Ok, here we are, Miss." Arthur got off his horse. He gently helped Annabel off, carefully supporting her as she slid down. "Let's go make the introductions and see how we can get you settled in."  
"Whose this now, that you've brought in Mr. Morgan?" A crass yet well-meaning voice emerged from behind them.  
Annabel turned to see a finely dressed older lady. She had dark hair, with streaks of white. She approached rapidly, with an intimidating energy. A terrible scar ran down her face which Annabel had to force herself to peel her eyes from. She realized she was more afraid of this lady than she was of Arthur. The stranger put her in mind of Mrs. Byrant, who hated Annabel and would hit her at any chance.  
"Mrs. Grimshaw, this is Miss Annabel. Miss Annabel, this here is Mrs. Grimshaw." Arthur nodded to and fro.  
Annabel lowered her head slightly as a meek greeting.  
"Nice to meet you dear. And Arthur, why did you drag this poor thing up here exactly?"  
"Eh, well... She had sort of a bad run... Found her up in that O'Driscoll camp we went to see the other day and well... Gah, it's a long story."  
"Well isn't that nice for you, Mr. Morgan. I don't need to tell you how difficult it is to provide for people in this camp."  
Mrs Grimshaw gave Arthur a stern and knowing look. He seemed understood what she was trying to tell him and Annabel got the feeling she may not be well received.  
"But if Dutch agrees, I know I can make this work." She said.  
"I know you can too, Mrs. Grimshaw. I'll go talk to Dutch. You're in good hands, Miss."  
Annabel watched him leave, wildly discomfited by his parting.  
Waves of nausea rolled over her. Mrs. Grimshaw examined Annabel, though Annabel took no notice, still focused on Arthur.  
Susan Grimshaw was a lady who'd seen countless hardships in her time. She studied Annabel, noting her tattered clothes, revealing a bit more than a lady should of her chest. Grimshaw sighed. This girl wasn't a freeloader, and she wasn't a spy. She was harmless and helpless.  
"Come along now, dear." Mrs. Grimshaw put one arm around Annabel's shoulder and another on her hand. "Let's get you dressed and washed up."  
Annabel's heart warmed at her gesture.  
"You will feel so much better once we get you out of this dress! We can show you around camp after that." Mrs. Grimshaw had already arranged everything in her mind.  
Annabel took in the atmosphere of the camp. Most of them didn't seem to care about her presence. There were three beautiful women, sitting on a blanket under a carriage canopy, sewing. She met eyes with them, unsure of what expression she was presenting. She saw a rotund man chopping up meat. She spotted two others playing Five Finger Fillet. A game she had become somewhat familiar with when she was captive of the O'Driscolls. She spotted Arthur and abashedly fixed on him.  
He stood in the entrance of the largest tent in camp. With his against the tent post, he spoke to a well dressed man. He had black hair and a black moustache. He seemed pensive and considerate and as he stood up, with a cigar in hand, she got the sense that he the one in charge.  
Arthur threw his hand back as if gesturing towards Annabel. She then noticed a red-headed woman sitting on a cot inside the tent. Likely the man's wife, she appeared very formal and lady-like.  
Mrs. Grimshaw pushed Annabel along to a secluded section with a wash barrel. Sheltered behind a carriage and some blankets that were hanging to dry, Mrs Grimshaw provided Annabel with some new clothes and stood guard while she washed up.  
Annabel slipped on a simple cotton dress. It was comfortable and intact. It hugged her waist well and came up around her elbows. She was provided with shoes that luckily fit, she'd been barefoot a while. Annabel ran her fingers through her hair, checking the mirror. She removed all the remaining dirt from her face and collected all her hair to one side. She felt better.  
Mrs. Grimshaw brought Annabel to a near by table. With a bucket of water and a cloth, she began cleaning some scrapes and cuts for Annabel.  
Annabel smiled at Mrs. Grimshaw as she dabbed at her scrapes. Mrs. Grimshaw took notice and smiled back.  
"We'll get you all fixed up in no time, dear."  
"Is that milkweed paste?" Annabel asked, referring to a small pot of mashed herbs that Mrs. Grimshaw was thinly applying on Annabel's cuts.  
"Why, yes it is, how did you know?" She replied without looking up.  
"I used to know someone who made herbal recipes often... from the... estate I worked at" Annabel never called it an estate but she heard Arthur say it back in town.  
"Well, Hosea made it. I'll introduce you later."  
"There are a lot of people here." Annabel stated, looking around.  
"There used to be more." Mrs. Grimshaw replied, solemnly. "Yes its been a rough few weeks. Here, move your hair dear, I'll get this one next."  
Annabel swept her hair to the other side, and Mrs. Grimshaw began to dab at another cut.  
"Is this... a gang, Mrs. Grimshaw? Like the O'Driscolls?"  
Susan paused for a moment before answering.  
"... We are a gang, yes. But not like the O'Driscolls, dear. Not like them at all. We are very different. Some of us have been together for over 10 years, some have been here just a few weeks. Or hours, in your case!"  
"Sorry to interrupt ladies." The tall, dark haired man approached. "Miss... Annabel is it? I see you've been introduced to Mrs. Grimshaw and her incomparable hospitality. I am Dutch Van der Linde. At your service."  
Dutch bowed his head slightly. Annabel could only stare up at Dutch as his shadow cast over her.  
Arthur approached the table, snapping Annabel out of her stare.  
"Now, Arthur has filled me in on what has befallen you. You are not the first of our kind to be hounded by the O'Driscolls. Let me say, you have refuge here."  
She smiled weakly.  
Susan pulled the collar of her dress, exposing her shoulder and the fair skin beneath it. Arthur hadn't noticed that his eyes had fallen over Annabel until he felt her gaze on him. She stared up at him, catching him very much off guard. He promptly redirected his gaze to Mrs. Grimshaw.  
"But I have to tell you Miss, everyone around here works. Everyone." Dutch continued.  
"Well not everyone." A woman with short blond hair interjected as she passed by. Annabel thought she was beautiful and lucky to be so busty.  
"Karen..." Dutch growled.  
Arthur chuckled and Annabel noticed Mrs. Grimshaw hiding a smile too.  
"Yes. Everyone. May I ask what skills you poses that you can contribute?"  
"Oh... Well... I don't know that I have any skills... But, but I'd be more than willing to learn anything!" Annabel added quickly trying to insist she had value to add.  
"Sewing? No. Cooking? No? Well I don't suppose you hunt or chop wood." Dutch continued.  
"Don't you worry Dutch, I'll help her find a place to settle in. Let's just give her some time to breathe alright?" Mrs. Grimshaw interrupted.  
"Susan, I have complete faith in you! I will leave you in her capable hands. And please Miss, don't hesitate to come see me if you need anything at all. I am at your service. So Arthur, head over and meet Javier and Trelawny and get our Sean back. Keep your head low, they'll be looking for us still." Arthur nodded and left, without so much as a word to Annabel.  
That evening, Mrs. Grimshaw took Annabel around to meet whoever was hanging about. Annabel was charmed by most of them, she enjoyed their sincerity. She met Reverend Swanson who was in a jovial mood from drinking perhaps a bit too much. He met John who was sitting playing cards at a table with two older gentlemen, one they called Uncle and another Bill. She recognized the latter's voice as one of the men who was at the cabin. He had a very distinct loud voice. She asked John about the nasty scar on his face, which set the table off firing jokes at his expense. In the end, she still wasn't entirely sure how he got those scars.  
She met Miss O'Shea, who was the most uninteresting out of all of them and equally uninterested in her. She wasn't mean, but Annabel felt that she looked down on her. Perhaps Miss O'Shea looked down on everyone. Why else would she be alone all the time. She met Abigail. She had a little boy, who was long gone to bed by the time they made their introductions. Abigail was a nice lady and in turn, introduced her to Mrs. Sadie Adler. She was very beautiful and had a look of a determine woman, though she spoke little. Mrs. Grimshaw would later explain to Annabel what had happened to Mrs. Adler, and how she ended up with the gang. It seemed she was also just finding her place.  
Suddenly, a group of horses came thundering into the camp ground, accompanied by yelling. Annabel jerked back, in fear. It took her a second to realize the yelling were hoots and hollering of just one of three men who must have belonged to the camp. Other camp members migrated to the scene and loud cheerful banter ensued.  
"I'm back you son's o' bitches!" A very Irish man yelled while jumping off the back of a horse.  
The Mexican man steering the horse rolled his eyes, claiming the ride was the longest of his life.  
Annabel watched as the group rejoiced in their comrade's return. It seemed they were friends after all. She scanned the crowd for Arthur. She watched as Pearson brought out drinks and set them out on the butcher block. Sean, she learned was his name, stood on a box to address the crowd. Drinking and dancing, ensued.  
A few hours passed before Annabel was able to steal herself away to visit Arthur.  
"Was it a long ride back with him?" Arthur's voice rang distinct through the crowd.  
"You have no idea" the Mexican man replied, with a guitar cradled in his lap.  
"Heh, I can imagine." Arthur replied as he walked away. The music began. Annabel traversed the crowd to catch up with Arthur.  
"Oh!" she exclaimed as she collided with someone in the dark. "Oh I'm sorry!" She said again, stumbling backwards.  
"Aw... That's alright, dear." A peculiar man, with protruding eyes and giant moustache, stood in front of her.  
He was unmoved by their collision, except for a slight sway which was likely due to inebriation. They stared at each other for a couple of seconds. Annabel involuntarily raising a lip in disgust. She thought better of saying sorry again and walked around him. She looked back and found he was staring at her, neck craned, not moving or saying anything more. What a creep. A wave of nausea swelled over her.  
She found Arthur sitting with some others around a campfire. Singing along to the tune of a guitar, everyone seemed to have a drink in hand. She greeted him.  
"Miss Annabel!" He partially slurred.  
She smiled.  
The light of the campfire highlighting the planes of his face. His slight facial scruff, his strong bone structure.  
"Have a seat!"  
She looked to a small space beside him. She stepped over him, he guided her by waist and sat her beside him.  
Without missing a beat of the song, he continued singing along, swinging side to side. The loud singing surrounded her. They sat, shoulder to shoulder. This was what she wanted right now. Swinging side to side, his elbow hanging over her thigh.  
Annabel's eyes caught someone watching her from across the camp. She noticed Hosea, a man she hadn't really met to any great extent yet. He wasn't joining in. He didn't even seem to be drinking.  
"Excuse me, darling.'" Arthur said, standing up and offering her his seat. She watched him leave, he disappeared into the darkness, stumbling a little bit. She looked around at the people. She could make this work.  
The next morning Arthur woke up with a hangover as expected. Holding his head as he sat up, he steadied himself on the edge of his cot.  
"You're gettin' too old for this." He scolded himself.  
It was a clear and sunny day but the camp was quiet, largely recovering from the night before. Arthur made his way across the camp, rubbing his eyes with one hand. He arrived at a wash barrel and rinsed his face in hopes of waking himself. He exhaled sharply, the cold water did the trick.  
He made his way to the woods to relieve himself after a long night of nothing but drinking.  
"Would you mind not doing that so close to me?!" Uncle groggily uprooted himself from within the tall grass.  
"What in God's name are you doing sleeping way over here old man!?" Arthur demanded, startled. "You fall asleep five more feet and any direction, you'd have found yourself over the cliff!"  
"I had a good night." Uncle giggled. "You did too!"  
"Well, now I'm paying for it."  
"You only live once, Arthur!"  
"That you do." Arthur zipped up and headed back towards camp, shaking his head.  
He had plans to collect some debts today. A task which he was never fond of yet always charged with. It was his job to scare people. Should intimidation fail, then he would simply beat them into submission. Some folk he didn't mind pummelling so much, they were tough guys who ran their mouth, beat women, cheated. There was all manner of bastards about. But other people he felt were tricked into accepting loans they would never be able to pay back. Arthur was supposed to beat them until they miraculously hemorrhaged money. It was a task he wanted to be over with.  
"Mornin' Hosea." Arthur waved as he strolled past his long time friend.  
"Morning Arthur! You did good getting that boy back."  
"Well, it wasn't just me."  
"I know. You also brought a girl back, Annabel? I haven't had much chance to say hello yet, but she seems like a sweet girl."  
"Yeah, just... bringing in all the strays Hosea, why not?" Arthur joked, scratching his neck.  
"Haha, why not indeed. You realize you were that stray once too, Arthur?"  
"That was a long time ago now, old man." Arthur chuckled waving goodbye over his shoulder.  
He greeted his horse, patting her and adjusting her saddle. He was growing fond of the horse, who always made his trips more pleasant. Across the camp he spotted Annabel. She was standing in the tall grass, throwing seed to the chickens. He couldn't say why, but he decided to approach her before leaving.  
"Morning." Arthur stopped a couple feet behind her.  
"Oh!" She turned quickly to face him.  
"Good to see you up and about. You settling in ok?"  
"Oh yes, thank you. It's peaceful here!"  
"I guess... You seem in a good mood, though."  
"Yeah I am. I'm happy to be here... Where are you going?"  
"I uh, got some errands to run."  
Annabel frowned playfully at his mysterious response.  
"Of the hooligan...variety." Arthur admitted, playfully, in return.  
She laughed.  
A shot of pain ran through her again, she winced.  
Arthur examined her.  
The frequency of these pains kept increasing and she knew it. These waves of nausea and pain were becoming more constant. She would have to see a doctor, she thought to herself. How? With what money?  
"You alright?" Arthur asked, tilting his head.  
"I think so, yeah." She replied. "I had fun last night. Did you?"  
She clenched the bag of chicken feed hard against her stomach, digging her fingers into it.  
"Oh, I'm glad." Arthur shifted his feet, growing a bit concerned.  
Her fingers dug into the sac of feed and she started to slouch forward.  
"I don't remember much...so I probably had a good time... You need to sit down, Annabel? Come this way."  
As Arthur reach out to grab the bag from her, Annabel couldn't take it anymore.  
Despite her efforts to contain it, a screamed slipped from her mouth. She dropped the bag to the ground, the seed spilling out, she gripped her stomach hard, keeled over, she cried out in pain.  
Arthur backed away, startled. He looked around nervously, no one was close by.  
"Jesus woman, what's wrong!" he approached her, not knowing what he could possibly do to help.  
He put a hand on her shoulder, he noticed her body had erupted in sweat. She dropped to her knees, her crying intensifying, she was in a lot of pain.  
"Good Lord, ok, let's go." Arthur scooped her tense body off the ground, quickly.  
"Miss Grimshaw! Anyone!"  
Miss Grimshaw came around the corner followed by Tilly.  
"What on earth happened to her?!" Mrs. Grimshaw cried, bustling over.  
"I have no idea! What do I do with her?"  
"Bring her over there, Arthur. Tilly, fetch some water and come back quickly". Tilly nodded and dashed away.  
Hosea and Abigail followed to see if they could help.  
Annabel's cries were background noise as Mrs. Grimshaw lead Arthur to the medical carriage where she instructed him to lay her down. She shooed Strauss out of the way.  
Arthur carefully laid her down on the bedding. Annabel reached out for him, but he didn't notice.  
"Oh my God!" Abigail gasped.  
Arthur's eyes widened.  
"That was not there a moment ago." Arthur referring to a pool of blood that had soaked through the front of her dress.  
Annabel writhed with pain, curled up and clenched her stomach. Abigail rushed to her side, holding her head.  
Mrs. Grimshaw appeared, shooing Arthur out of the way so she could take her seat by the patient. She saw the blood and quietly said "Oh poor thing..." a heavy silence followed, except for Annabel's groaning.  
"What?" Arthur asked, stupidly because they all realized at the same time what happened.  
"Arthur, close the tent and get out, Tilly, Abigail, please assist me. Hosea, could you fetch some new clothes and some cloths for washing please?" Mrs. Grimshaw shooed Arthur away.  
Annabel reached towards him, trying to sit up.  
He stood in pause just outside of the tent. It was in Mrs. Grimshaw's hands after all.


	3. Ebb and Flow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully it will become more obvious, but we are around the point in the game where Arthur and John rustle cattle then meet Cornwall in Valentine. Annabel isn't aware of everything that's happening, as I figured not everyone in the camp would know about every job that was going on. She usually is meant to hear bits and pieces of whats going on.

Chapter 3: Ebb and Flow  
Many days had passed since Annabel's incident. Arthur had come and gone from the camp more times than he had stayed. He and John had successfully robbed a train along with Charles and Sean but it left a bad taste in their mouths.  
Arthur felt the world closing in.  
He would often pass by the tent to find the flaps drawn closed. Mrs. Grimshaw reported that Annabel would be fine, she just needed to recover.  
"Hey Arthur?" John approached. "You come meet me in Valentine later? I ended up finding a job that should bring in some cash."  
"Sure. Whats the job?" Arthur tossed a bail of hay to the ground.  
"Just meet in Valentine, I'll fill you in there. I have some preliminary work to get to."  
"Tch, you and your big mystery act, Marston."  
"Just be there"  
"I will..."  
"That should do it Mr. Morgan, thanks." Said Kieran, dragging the bail of hay to a more optimal position.  
"You take care of them horses now, O'Driscoll." Arthur dryly quipped.  
"I ain't an O'Driscoll... You ought to know that by now." Kieran sighed. "If you're out and about, and you see some Burdock Root, it would really help the horses I think. Its often near water... would you?"  
"Burdock root? Sure, I'll keep an eye out."  
Arthur busied himself with a few more chores. He planned to kill a couple hours helping out the camp before riding off to meet John for his big cash raking adventure. His mind wandered to Annabel. Frustrated with his wandering thoughts, he decided to take a break.  
Uncle was teasing Pearson again, which was a ridiculous display at the best of times. Rumour was, Uncle had once been a quick shot kid. Those days were long gone.  
Arthur noticed Annabel, finally out of the tent. She had made her way to a quiet rock overlooking the cliff. A place Mrs. Adler had been fond of since they arrived there. She sat herself down slowly on the rock. Before he knew why, Arthur was walking towards her.  
"Hello Miss Annabel." Arthur said in his kindliest tone.  
He wouldn't be surprised if she was in no mood to talk. He wasn't particularly good with talking to women anyway.  
"Hi, Arthur." She responded, looking out at the view.  
Arthur would have normally left, she was probably not entertaining conversation so soon in her recovery but something told him to stay.  
He took a breath before trying his hand at conversation.  
"Want some company for a bit?"  
She nodded, heavily. Her arms, her head, her heart, everything was heavy but yes, she wanted him to stay.  
"Ok then." Arthur approached and leaned against the giant rock she was sitting on.  
There were a few seconds of silence between them. He wondered why he put himself in such an awkward situation but her eyes were on him now, and there was no backing away.  
She watched Arthur reach into his breast pocket and pull out a pack of smokes. With a quick flick of the wrist, he struck a match. It was a swift move he must have preformed a hundred times before. She wagered no one ever watched him as closely as she did. He exhaled smoke and offered her the cigarette, noticing her eyes on him.  
She shook her head no, but watched him take another drag.  
"I'm glad you're ok." He said finally.  
Another minute passed in silence. Annabel pulled her eyes off him and back on the view. She liked being beside him. She felt better already.  
"I'm sorry about all that." Annabel said. "It's embarrassing. I think everyone knows what happened. They must think..."  
"They don't think nothing." Said Arthur, tossing his cigarette. "They don't. They all been through their own ringer, that I can assure you. You'll get to know folk around here. Most of 'em anyway, they earned their scars."  
Annabel's eyes fell to the deep scar on his chin.  
"I'm saying," Arthur turned to face her, "Ain't no one judging you here."  
"Even you?" she asked, her limpid eyes meeting his.  
"'Course. You're a far better person than me Miss, nothing you can do will change that."  
She smiled numbly. "Can you just call me Annabel?"  
"Sure." They enjoyed a few more minutes of quiet.  
"Well, I gotta ride out. You take care Annabel, I'll see you later." Arthur stood up right.  
"When will you be back?" She asked.  
He stalled. It was not a question he was used to hearing. What did it matter, as long as it got done.  
"... I don't know. It's a Marston's thing."  
"Ok. Hurry back." She said, her eyes still on the horizon.  
Arthur frowned a bit.  
He shook it off and he took his leave. He had a hard time reading Annabel. She should be afraid, perhaps more timid. Like Tilly was when she first arrived, and Tilly was no coward. He didn't feel like she wanted anything from him, which did happen from time to time. Not that Arthur would say he had women falling for him all around, but when he was younger he did find it easier to sway women with his boldness, his strength, his cleverness. Back when he would entertain the idea of a lover. Not these days. These days he shot those ideas down fast.  
He mounted his horse and rode off towards Valentine.  
Annabel watched him disappear into the trees. Her eyes tracked him until he vanished. At that moment, she realized someone was watching her. Her face flushed as she noticed Hosea, sitting at the table with a book. Had he noticed her eyes on Arthur?  
Did it matter? Probably not.  
She stood up and made her way over to him, greeting Swanson along the way. She noticed Mrs. Adler chopping food at the stand where Pearson usually worked. She liked how everyone contributing seemed to make them closer. She was eager to contribute but was at a loss for what she could do. She was really only good for one thing back where she came from, and this place wasn't like that.  
"Morning Hosea," Annabel said softly.  
"Good morning, Annabel. Want to have a sit?" He pushed the chair out with his leg.  
Annabel nodded and sat down, resting her arms on the table.  
"What are you reading?"  
"Oh, this here is just a little book I found for Jackie boy. He's learning to read and I just thought I'd go through myself before showing him." Hosea said, closing the book and tapping it with his fingers.  
"Oh, little Jack? He can read? You can read?" She blurted, impressed by both notions.  
Hosea chuckled a bit as he took a sip of coffee.  
"Yes on both fronts. Is that surprising?"  
"Oh, no... Well, I guess? I just... I'm sorry."  
"No, no, it's ok. We look like a bunch of rascals but we try to remain educated. It's important for the boy. We all really want what's best for him. A lot more people these days can read than ever before. By the time Jack is grown, probably most will folk his age will be perfectly literate."  
"You don't look like rascals... I don't think that. I guess I'm just continuously surprised by everything here. Especially after seeing that other gang. Actually even thinking about where I came from. I just didn't think gangs really cared about things like that..."  
"Well, you are probably right on that front, Miss. The O'Driscolls probably can't read, most of 'em. They do operate differently. We used to operate differently too..."  
Hosea seemed a bit sad as he paused momentarily. He caught himself wandering and attempted to redirect the topic.  
"Can you read Miss?"  
Annabel forced her self to answer.  
"Not really..." Her face felt hot.  
"Don't be ashamed, Miss, there's nothing to be ashamed of at all. We all get different opportunities in life. I'm sure you can do plenty of things I cant."  
Annabel almost laughed at that notion.  
"Well, if you want, I wouldn't mind trying to teach you a bit." Hosea said matter of factly.  
"Really?"  
"Yeah, why not. I've had tougher students than you, I'm sure!"  
"I bet you haven't."  
"Well, I taught Arthur how to read and write. I taught John. Teaching Jack now. I tried teaching Abigail but eh, we're putting a pin in that for now, with all her duties with Jack."  
"You taught Arthur?"  
"Oh yes, yes, when he was younger mind you. At the time, he had no desire to be educated either. He was all about survival." Hosea reminisced. "But we did it. He kept it up too, he's very literate."  
Annabel was instantly intrigued. She was happy to get off the topic of her illiteracy and ecstatic to talk about Arthur.  
"How long have you known Arthur?"  
"Oh... he was about 14 when we met him."  
"We?"  
"Dutch and I." Hosea nodded over in the direction of Dutch's tent, though he wasn't there at the time. "Yeah back then it was just us two. Then Arthur."  
"What was he like?"  
"Back then? He was the size of a grown man." Hosea laughed. "We didn't realize he was just a kid. Dutch punched him something rough and Arthur threw fists right back. Dutch never told anyone except me, he said to me later that was one of the hardest punches he'd ever taken."  
Hosea continued to laugh.  
"Oh, he was reluctant but I think he really came around when I started to teach him to read and write. Helped him bond with us."  
Annabel smiled. She loved hearing the story.  
"Where did he come from then? How did you meet?" She asked, head on her hand.  
Hosea paused slightly, noticing her questions were directed very specifically on Arthur. She was either trying to remove herself from the topic at hand or she wanted to hear about him. Before he could answer, Kieran came by.  
"Annabel, you wanna come tend to the horses with me? If you're feeling alright. I know you were looking to help out earlier, and I could use a hand! Oh. Sorry, I interrupted didn't I?"  
Kieran's eyes darted between the two.  
"No, no that's quite alright kid. "Hosea said, getting up from his chair and stretching a bit. "I should get to it also. Annabel, keep that offer in mind."  
Annabel nodded to Hosea. She accompanied Kieran to the horses. She liked Kieran, he was mild mannered and friendly. They spent the afternoon tending to the horses. The evening was spent in equally pleasant company as she sat with the girls while they ate supper. She'd never really spent time with girls her age and they made her laugh. She liked all of them, Mary-Beth, Tilly and Karen. They were smart, strong, beautiful. Annabel thought back to Arthur's words:  
"They earned they scars."  
She wondered if they had been in situations similar to hers. Or maybe worse. Maybe this is the part in her story where she finds out she had always been lucky.  
The night was spent with the girls sharing light stories about the gang. Karen had the best stories, Annabel found herself leaning in to every word she said. She learned how old Swanson was always drunk. Uncle was as old as time and just as slow. Molly was a stuck up bitch who never had to do any labour except on Dutch. The girls giggled at that remark. Mrs. Grimshaw was a slave driver according to the girls, but she'd come through for each of them at some point or another. Karen seemed to butt heads with her the most.  
Karen told Annabel about some of the tricks she'd turn in the towns she visited. Annabel couldn't believe the harm she'd put herself in.  
"Oh yea! "Karen hollered. "Get them men drunk enough, they ain't no worry really. As long as they drinking its just up to the room, quick little diggity, they out like a light and I could skin 'em if I wanted to!"  
Annabel was floored by how casually she described it.  
"They don't hurt you? What if they get mad?" Annabel asked.  
"Well, yeah it has happened on occasion. But more often than not, it goes ok." Karen said non-nonchalantly.  
"Last time, Arthur saved you." Mary-Beth added.  
"Yeah, last time I wasn't careful enough." Karen said, refusing to acknowledge the danger she put herself in.  
"He saved my ass to that day." Tilly said.  
"How did that man even find you, Tilly?" Mary-Beth asked, still in awe.  
"I don't know... But he better not come around me, anymore."  
"Don't worry, we'll all protected you." Karen said, taking a swig of something strong.  
Nighttime came and they all fell asleep. Annabel couldn't remember a time when she had enjoyed so much friendly interaction, it did her heart good.


	4. Past and Present

Chapter 4: Past and Present  
"There you are!" a familiar voice cut through the night. Annabel awoke startled to see Mr. Byrant standing above her.  
"You've wandered around long enough!" He grabbed her by her arm, and dragged her off the bedroll.  
The other girls were gone.  
"Excuse me, sir!" Dutch's booming voice rang as he stomped over, "Just how did you find us here and what do you think you're doing?"  
"I'm taking back what's mine. I paid for her and she is my property." Byrant said, yanking Annabel up to her feet. The gig was up.  
"I will turn a blind eye to whatever debauchery is going on her, Mister, I don't care! I'm collecting my property and returning home."  
Dutch paused for a moment. He could let this man go and not put any of his crew at risk.  
"That ain't gonna happen partner. The girl wants to stay here, so let her go." Arthur growled.  
"Unless you want to buy a used whore off me, then I am claiming my stolen property. Unless I am better off to report you all to the law for theft? Among other things I'm sure."  
"I could give you a five mile start and you wouldn't reach the law before my bullet reaches your head friend, I can promise you that." Arthur retorted.  
"Arthur! Now hang on, let us think this through." Dutch intervened.  
"Time for thinking is done!" Byrant took out his pistol, firing a shot into Arthur's chest.  
Annabel screamed.  
She jerked up in bed, chest heaving. A dream. It was a dream. Right? She looked around.  
She clutched her chest, her heart pounding, soaked in sweat.  
It was morning and most people awake. She had never been so happy to know that something was a dream. She had never been so happy to wake up in a place as she was to wake up here. She could her Jack and his mother talking, she could hear Pearson preparing food not too far off. She could hear Hosea, though he sounded mad, off in the distance.  
She deliberately slowed her breathing. Maybe listening to Tilly's story about someone from her past coming after her brought on her dream. Byrant was a lot of things, but a ballsy killer he was not.  
She got up and went to wash her face. She saw Hosea storm out of Dutch's tent and thought better of approaching him. She saw Arthur, in good health. He was standing tall beside Dutch who was looking over a map. They seemed to be bickering too.  
"You ok there, kitten?" Micah cast a shadow over her as he swayed slightly. "You look a bit... wet." He grinned. Annabel recoiled at Micah's presence. "Oh don't go just yet. I have a proposition for you."  
Her peripheral vision caught Arthur turning his back to Dutch. Dutch yelled something to him that Annabel couldn't make out.  
She ignored Micah and hurried to catch him as he made way to his horse.  
"Arthur," she called, out of breath. "Are you leaving again?"  
"Well, yes" he said adjusting the saddle on his horse. "Charles and I... Well, we're just gonna go check out some land. You go help the others pack."  
"Pack?"  
Arthur didn't respond.  
"So where we going?" Charles asked. The two steered their mounts towards the woods and disappeared into the trees.  
"Mrs Grimshaw! Get everybody packing so we can move out as soon as possible, will you?" Dutch yelled to Susan from inside his tent.  
Annabel stood among the gang, who seemed to familiar with this drill. She had nothing to pack. It occurred to her that if she had had a chance to bring anything from her former home, she would have had nothing she cared to bring. Abigail directed her to help Mr. Pearson pack up the food carriage. She was happy to help.  
Pearson entertained her with stories of the Navy. He talked on and on, it was like listening to someone reading a book. Annabel didn't mind.  
"Are you almost done here, Mr. Pearson?" Mrs. Grimshaw arrived to inspect the site.  
"Just about. Going to start loading things up. Bills coming over to help." Pearson responded without looking up.  
"Good. Annabel, would you get a start on packing up Arthur's or Charles's things? I'll be getting to it next, just make sure its all together." Mrs. Grimshaw briskly walked off.  
Annabel looked over to Arthur's sleeping quarters. As she made her way over, she could hear Mr. Pearson continuing his story. He clearly hadn't clued in that she left.  
She approached Arthur's caravan, scanning it over. A chest lay at the foot of the cot. A barrel had been set up with a mirror and razor where the men would often come shave. Her eyes fell to the pictures near his bed. She picked one up, and examined it. It was a mug shot of an older man. She didn't know what it read, and she squinted as though the words would read themselves to her.  
"Must be his dad..." she said, flipping to see if there was anything on the back.  
The man bore a resemblance to Arthur, but at the same time, it looked nothing like him. He had the same strong jaw and serious and piercing eyes. She observed that the man looked more immoral that Arthur appeared in her mind. She smiled a bit, noticing the hat. She often saw Arthur press his hat down on his head. She loved the way it might conceal his eyes only to emphasis his smirk when he looked down.  
"I guess he was close with his him... What's this?" She suppressed a giggle as she picked up a picture of a dog.  
She paired it with the other photo. She sat on the bed as she examined the last picture, pinned to the caravan. It was clearly Dutch, Hosea and Arthur. But many years ago. He was so handsome, even then. Even then he had a serious nature which exuded itself even through the photograph. She allowed herself to get lost in the photograph for a moment. What was he like then? Three close friends travelling together, it must have been like a dream. She stacked the photos together.  
On his nightstand, were various items. A book, some arrows, and another photo. A photo of a beautiful lady. She picked it up and checked the back, there was nothing written on it. Could it be his sister? Surely. That was it. She began to place things in the drawer of his nightstand.  
She wasn't proud of how many questions she had about the pretty lady, and it made her realize what a silly game she was playing in her head, completely on her own.  
While it was a lot of work, it didn't take long before the spread of camp became smaller and smaller. Packed up on carriages, in chests, tied down with ropes and blankets, everything from guns to chickens, was safely packed up.  
It was late at night when they began to travel. She squeezed between Mrs. Grimshaw, and Micah. Javier sat at the end of the caravan, legs hanging out as he kept watch, rifle cradled in one hand, a cigarette in the other. She was a little grossed out by Bill and Uncle snoring away directly across from her, but was far more concerned about Micah. He reeked of stale tobacco, and musty body odour. He was deliberately toying with her and she was frightened by it.  
It started by him sitting much too close, she thought. He was leaning into her a little too much.  
"Hello dear," he sneered.  
Susan and Javier were talking, Javier was telling her about the village he grew up in. The snoring gentlemen across from her compounded with the creaks and loud movement of the caravan traversing the terrain made it impossible for anyone else to hear the words he was muttering into her ear.  
"I know your kind, dear." He exhaled, "And I know what you want. I can see the look in your eyes, you ain't been done over in a while and your looking for a roll, ain't ya?"  
He brushed her thigh with the back of his hand and leaned his face in towards her ear so closely that she could feel his breath move her hair.  
"Don't worry, dear, shh. Ol' Micah can take care of you, just say the word."  
"Leave me alone." She said firmly.  
She had felt this way before. She hated how easily she froze. She couldn't speak, she couldn't react. She was submissive. It was ingrained into her.  
"Hey, Micah leave her alone" Javier yelled over, before resuming his conversation with Susan.  
"We're only talking..!" Micah insisted, not removing his hand. "She likes me!"  
Uncle snorted awake. Micah's hand stopped.  
"Bill stop snoring!" Uncle whined.  
Bills head rolled to the other side, mouth still agape.  
"Mrs. Grimshaw, how long have you been here?" Annabel tried turning her attention towards something else, now that there was a break in Micah's tension.  
"Oh, a long time now. Twelve years easily." She said thoughtfully. "Course back then there weren't as many of us. There was just the three boys and me, for a while. Oh, but we got along well. Still do."  
Up head Annabel saw Charles ride up. She wondered why he was alone, no Arthur in sight. Charles was speaking to Dutch at the front of the convoy line. In turn, Dutch yelled back to Pearson who was driving the carriage she was sitting in.  
"Change of plan, Charles is going to lead us to a new campground. Follow close!" Dutch shouted.  
Pearson nodded and yelled back to the carriage behind them, who passed the message to the carriage behind them and so on. Annabel searched the dark horizon for Arthur but no sign of him.  
Rays of sunlight permeated the foliage of the trees and stirred her awake. The wagon steered to a clearing ahead. Annabel could see that Bill, Javier and Micah were no longer on the carriage.  
"Hello Arthur!" Dutch greeted cheerfully.  
"Dutch." Arthur greeted back, taking a final drag from his cigarette.  
"Mrs. Grimshaw, Mr. Pearson!" Dutch addressed as he hopped off his wagon. "Put everyone to work! Make this place a home."  
It had felt like a long time since she'd seen Arthur and she smiled at him. He seemed to barely notice her as he brushed passed her to talked with Dutch. Mrs. Grimshaw swept Annabel away to help Mr. Strauss unpack the medical caravan.  
It was approximately three days before camp operations were running smoothly and everyone was able to find a routine.  
"Yeah, you got it!" Tilly said as she leaned over Annabel's shoulder.  
"Yours is much straighter, Tilly." Annabel looked over at Tilly's hands which were skilfully repairing a hole in a blouse.  
"Well, that part just comes with practise. We'll give you all of Uncles things until you get better!" She burst out giggling.  
"Well that should do it for now, my hands are getting tired. I'm going to get some coffee, you want some?" Tilly offered.  
Annabel declined. She continued to work on patching the pant cuff of Uncles trousers.  
"Annabel." Arthur nodded as he walked by, carrying a bag of something.  
"Hey!" She responded, a little more excitedly than she would have liked to.  
"You keepin' busy?"  
"Yeah, I'm doing a poor job and sewing trousers." She said cheerfully.  
His chuckled caused her to flush and she looked back down to her hands.  
"Yeah well, you'll do better than most." He tossed the bag to the ground and began to walk away.  
"Where you going?" She asked.  
"What? After I finish this? Probably head out to Rhodes."  
"Maybe I can come with you?"  
"Oh I don't know... You're free to come and go but I think you're better off travelling with someone who doesn't attracted as much trouble as me."  
He nodded to her and walked away before she could press any further. He had a feeling she would be able to convince him if he stayed too long.  
He passed the time chopping wood. It was a monotonous chore that he didn't mind doing. The camp chores were mundane and peaceful, they cleared his mind. He always tended towards worrying, and lately he couldn't shake the feeling that the continuous barrage of close calls and unfortunate events were just too frequent to be a coincidence. He straightened up, dropping the axe and rolling his shoulders.  
Maybe a ride would clear his mind. Unlike Annabel, he was everything he needed to survive. He could leave whenever he wanted.  
He trudged through the brush to retrieve his horse.  
"This way girl," he said, pulling the reins over her head and leading her out to the path.  
He saw Annabel standing on the trail, her long hair in a side braid wearing a fitted cotton dress.  
"What're you doing?" Arthur asked, holding his arm up to deflect the branches from his face.  
"I just really want to go out a bit, see some scenery. I've never been here, you know. Can I just come with you?"  
"Heh, I don't think so. You can walk around camp, plenty to see. I ain't a babysitter."  
"Well that's fine, I'll go by myself." She said, attempting to play a card.  
"Well, have fun." Arthur said, tossing the reins back over the mare's head. "Don't talk to strangers."  
Annabel frowned in annoyance.  
"You're just going to some town right? That's perfect, that's exactly what I want."  
"You'll draw too much attention" Arthur said.  
"Why! I wont do anything!" She retorted.  
"Because you're a... Look, ask some one else." Arthur folded his hands firmly around his belt buckle.  
They shared a silence. Annabel looked up at him, annoyed that he hadn't finished his sentence.  
"What were you going to call me Arthur? Just say it."  
"I just can't be watching out for someone like you in a place I don't know. You cant even ride a horse, its like watching a child."  
"I can ride a horse! I can take care of myself and I wont be a bother!"  
"Is that so. You seem uncoordinated when we rode together before."  
Anger washed over her, and Arthur felt she was going to lay off soon. If he called her bluff one more time, she might cry but she wouldn't bother him again.  
"Alright, let's see then." He whistled, getting a nearby horses attention. "C'mere boy, come on."  
He beckoned to a carriage horse over, he was fitted with a saddle and it was likely that no one would be riding him. The horse lazily clopped forward.  
"If you can ride him, we'll set off." He said with a shrug.  
Annabel had never rode a horse in her life. She reached up to grab the horn of the saddle, it was a toss up between which hand she should use to pull herself.  
Arthur scoffed quietly too himself.  
She placed a foot in the stirrup and heaved herself up over the saddle. She felt like she weighed a ton and couldn't believe how difficult it was to pull her own body weight up. She threw her leg over the saddle and plopped down.  
She did it. She looked back at Arthur with a matter of fact smile.  
"Well, go on then. That's the first part." Arthur tapped his horse on the side to slowly start moving.  
A smile cracked from the side of his mouth.  
Annabel furrowed her brow. She moved in her saddle to get it go forward. The bulky horse didn't react.  
"Come on.." She urged quietly.  
Arthur's horse cantered on ahead, the distance between them growing greater. Annabel groaned in defeat. She tried again, a quick but firm gesture, squeezing the barrel of the horse.  
It worked! The horse began to trot though it moved in the wrong direction. Instead of following the path, the horse trotted off towards a field away from camp.  
"No no, no" Annabel insisted, pulling at the reigns.  
"You two have fun." Arthur said, staying his course.  
The breeze picked up, and seemed to excite the horse. He snorted loudly which caused Annabel to squeal a bit in fear, she tensed up. The horse started galloping across the field on his own schedule.  
"Christ..." Arthur groaned as he watch the horse gallop away, carefree.  
Annabel decided a win in this situation would be not dying, so she held on tight.  
Arthur knew he could end this quickly. The horse wasn't spooked or mean, he was playful. Arthur sped across the field to pull up beside them. He carefully reached over to grab the reigns of the horse. Once he snatched it he pulled both horses off to the side and began to slow down.  
"Ok, there boy. That's enough." They finally pulled to a stop. "Well, the good news is, he really likes you. The bad news is..."  
Annabel was quiet. Her frame quivered a bit as she fought back tears.  
And it wasn't just the horse, it was everything.  
"What now? You crying again?"Arthur sighed rudely.  
"Nothing. Can you take me back?" She couldn't stop the tears from flowing down her face.  
It was too much for her, she didn't belong here. As much as she wanted to be apart of this place, she knew it wasn't where she belonged.  
She wiped the tears with her wrist.  
"Please, let's just go." She cried quietly.  
"Annabel... Look, it's.." Arthur rolled his words, not knowing what he was going to say.  
"Fine? No, it's not fine for me. I can't do these things. I don't know the things everyone else knows, even though I should by now. I can't cook, I can't sew, I can't start a fire or ride a horse!"  
She was worked up, shaking a bit from the out pour of frustration.  
"Oh! And I can't swim either, by the way, I know how you feel about that." She injected, referring to a conversation she over heard between him and John, where Arthur belittled John for not learning how to swim.  
Arthur watched her self-deprecation in silence. He had successfully taught her a lesson, and for what? He felt sorry for her.  
"I'm good for one thing only, and you don't want to know what that is." She said, with no hesitation.  
Arthur's mouth fell open slightly, he knew he brought this on by working the situation in this direction.  
"Annabel... I-I'm sorry, I—"  
"Stop it!" she said, cutting the air with her hands. "Just, take me back."  
The birds sung around them, and the cool breeze played in the grass. She folded her arms and looked away.  
"Let's try this whole thing again." Arthur said, with his best nice guy voice. "I have an idea, let's go fishing, there's a spot just over there Kieran showed me few days ago. It's quiet, and we can bring food back for camp."  
"Might come as a surprise to you Arthur, but I can't fish, either." She said in the coldest tone she could manage.  
Arthur accidentally chuckled, it was out of the ordinary for her to speak with such attitude.  
"Well, that works just as well, 'cause I only have one fishing pole, but we're still out here. It's still something to do off of camp. We're going."  
He moved the horses forward, holding the reins of the mischievous carriage horse as they trotted along in silence.  
They arrived to a sandy bank just down the river from camp.  
Arthur hoped off his horse before helping her down. Her tears had dried but her eyes were still glassy. Arthur walked until the water touched his boots. He assembled the fishing pole. Annabel sat on a nearby rock and watched him.  
The waves lapped slowly and she was mesmerized by them.  
Arthur cast out.  
"You seem a bit hard on yourself Annabel... if you don't mind me saying. Lots of folk ain't good at a lot of things." He said not looking back.  
"They can do more than me. You don't understand..." She was tired of being upset.  
"I ain't that good at fishing, for example." He shared.  
She rolled her eyes. He was fishing right now, he knew enough to do it.  
"Actually, I learned the most I ever learned about fishing just the other day with the O'Driscoll boy. Before that, nah, not very good. Not a good hunter either. Too impatient for that."  
He cast his line out again.  
"You may hear of a tale, and I ain't saying its true, but you may hear of a tale wherein a certain younger version of yours truly was tasked to bring back food for his wiser partners in crime. And he brought back the biggest bass you could imagine existed. You may also hear that the next day, the town butcher yelled to him, as he passed by with his partners in crime, heh, 'How'd you like that fish you bought yesterday?'"  
Arthur chuckled to himself at the memory.  
"What? You bought it?" Annabel laughed.  
"Not only did I buy the fish, I also bought a bottle of rum. And I bought it with money I acquire by robbing a feller that same morning. Then I drank and slept all day instead. I didn't hear the end of that for a long time. Turns out, I was better at beating people than providing for them."  
Annabel laughed, entertained by the story, she stood up from the rock.  
"It was Hosea and Dutch?" she asked.  
"Mhmm. Hosea tried teaching me to hunt many times. I can do it, I guess, but I lack a certain finesse even now. But he still tries to teach me." Arthur said fondly.  
She could tell he was close with Hosea.  
"Not too long before you joined us, we went out bear hunting, if you can believe it. He got word of this... 'legendary' Grizzly up north from our last camp. We travelled up there, he showed me a bait recipe, we planned our hide out."  
Arthur cast out again. The water gently lapped in and out.  
"Did you kill the bear?" Annabel asked, also wondering why they would journey so far out of their way just to kill a bear.  
"No no, not exactly. He almost killed us though. Haha, Hosea, I think he won't be hunting anymore bears."  
The line went taught.  
"Oh, there we go." Arthur reeled in a small bluegill.  
Annabel grimaced, off put by the hook lodged in the poor things mouth.  
"Bah, too small."  
Arthur twisted the hook out of its mouth. Just as he was about to toss it back into the water, it slipped out of his hand. In an attempt to catch it, he sent it back in Annabel's direction. She screamed and fell back in the sand, the fish flapping on the ground beside her.  
Arthur laughed as he bent down, picked up the fish and tossed it back in the water.  
"My fault!" he said through a chuckle.  
Annabel got up, brushing the sand off her dress, laughing mostly out of relief.  
She was always embarrassed when she reacted so intensely over small things. Her nerves had been shot over the years and she knew there was no hiding it.  
"Phew..." She heaved. "That was a first."  
Her smile faded and a silence fell over her as she watched him. His hat concealed his eyes but his lips formed a grin. It made her feel safe when he was at ease.  
"A first? You ain't ever seen a fish before?" Arthur joked. "You eat 'em so..."  
"Yeah, but its different when its alive and flying towards you." She paused. "I actually used to live on the water, where I grew up".  
"You did? Where was that?" He asked casting again.  
"I don't know where it was exactly, but there a few houses sort of close together. We had a lake behind us, we played in the water a lot..."  
"You can't remember where?"  
"It was along time ago. I had to leave there when I was probably 10 or so."  
"Why'd you leave?"  
"There was a fire. I really don't know what happened."  
"So, then what?" Arthur pressed.  
"I don't know how much time passed, but I guess the lawmen came. I think I was the only survivor because they took me away... I didn't see anyone else. I really can't remember too much. I stayed with them for a bit. Then to an orphanage. After that, I remember I was brought to the place where I spent the rest of my life. Where I worked."  
"I'm sorry to hear that."  
"I had good parents too, and a good brother." Silence fell between them.  
"Hey. I think you got something?" She said as the line tugged.  
Arthur reeled in a decent enough fish.  
"Well, this helps. Tie this to the horse, would you?" Arthur teased.  
He laid the fish on a nearby rock.  
"If we could get one more, that oughta do 'er" He said, casting out.  
"How do you know where to cast?" She said, mesmerized again by the light dancing off the water.  
The breeze felt so nice.  
"Eh.. I don't really. If I can see them swimming or biting, I'll cast there but usually, I'm just guessing" he said flashing her a smile.  
Her heart ached for him. She scolded herself for the fantasy she was building in her head. The game that she played alone.  
Annabel dug at the sand with her shoe.  
Arthur caught another fish, and Annabel took a big step backwards, in jest. Arthur chuckled.  
"Ok, let's get heading back. C'mere girl."  
His horse met him and he tied the fish to the back. He mounted his horse, and lowered his arm for Annabel to grab. He hoisted her up onto her horse and grabbed its reins, leading it for her.  
Annabel wanted to thank him, but it would sound too pitiful. And she already felt pathetic. They rode back in silence, the sun shining. It would be a memory she would never forget.  
"Well, thank you Miss Annabel," he said, after returning to camp. "I had a good time."  
She blushed violently, following closely behind him.  
He stopped suddenly to face her, and she nearly ran into him.  
"Also, I think you need to seriously re-evaluate what your worth is, Miss." He spoke gently and lowly to her, almost a grumble.  
He was so close, he could probably see her heart skip.  
"You have a lot of good in you." he said before he turned and walked away.  
Annabel stood there for sometime. She watched Arthur take the fish to Pearson's stand.  
Pearson and Mrs. Adler were yelling at each other. She walked a bit closer so she could hear, but remained back enough to give everyone space.  
"You come near me and I will slice you up!" Sadie growled between clenched teeth, holding a knife out at Pearson.  
Arthur approached the table.  
"You put that knife down or you're going to be missing a hand lady!" Pearson countered, holding out a large cleaver.  
"What is wrong with you two?" Arthur demanded, dropping the fish on the table.  
"I ain't chopping vegetables for a living!" Sadie declared, driving the knife into the table.  
"Oh I'm sorry, Madam," Arthur said sarcastically. "Were there insufficient feathers in your pillow?"  
"I ain't lazy Mr. Morgan." she said, "I'll work, but not this!" She stormed past both men, knocking Pearson in the shoulder.  
"Well ain't cooking work?" Arthur yelled to her.  
Mrs. Adler took a deep breath. Annabel watched as she tried to control her frustration. Arthur padded Pearson on the shoulder to take over.  
Mrs. Adler spoke to Arthur, but Annabel couldn't make it out.  
It was the first time she had seen members of the gang fight amongst themselves.  
"...skin this fat old coot and serve him for dinner!" Sadie's voice rose in volume.  
"Watch your damn mouth you crazy goddamn fishwife!" Pearson waved his finger towards her, angrily.  
Annabel cocked her head back, thinking it was a bit rude considering Mrs. Adler's situation.  
Sadie snapped and lunged at Pearson, Arthur catching her mid-charge.  
"Enough! Both of ya" He yelled.  
A few people looked over. Sadie composed herself.  
"Well, come with me then..." Arthur said. "You wanna head out there? Run with the men?" He taunted.  
He pulled in closer to her and continued but Annabel couldn't hear what they were saying. Pearson handed them some papers.  
Arthur started to walk off, filing the papers into his satchel.  
"You coin' with me then woman?" he yelled.  
Sadie dropped her arms and followed him.  
Annabel watched them drive off. He was gone again.  
"Annabel! Annabel, come here would ya?" Pearson waved her over. Annabel obeyed. "Hey, if you aren't busy, I could use a hand here."  
"Sure!" Annabel said.  
"Great, grab the knife that's... wedged into the table" he grumbled "And start chopping."  
Annabel lined the vegetables out and began carefully chopping them. Pearson grabbed the fish Arthur had left and began filleting them. They enjoyed light-hearted chat about the new location. He told her about their former location in New Austin. He ambiguously described it as nothing like this place but pretty much the same.  
"I appreciate your help Annabel. If you haven't found a new station, I sure would like to replace Sadie. We don't see eye to eye, let me tell you."  
"Oh you mean to help you everyday? I don't know much about cooking." She said. "But I would really like to learn."  
"Oh! I have barrels of knowledge on cooking, butchering, heck, even things not food related!"  
Annabel sat by the campfire, listening to Javier play guitar, while Uncle told stories. The cool breeze rolled off the water. She looked past the fire, to where Arthur sat playing poker at a table with John, Lenny and Sean. As far as she was concerned, this had been the best day of her life.  
Days passed and finally Annabel found herself falling into a routine. She would wake up every morning and wash up at the wash barrel. After that she would go see whoever was drinking coffee. Abigail and Hosea were almost always up among others.  
She made her way to the table, yawning slightly. Javier and Charles were in the middle of a conversation with Hosea, with Abigail listening in.  
"Anyway," Javier continued "Charles and I are gonna follow this lead, see where it takes us."  
"You boys be careful then." Hosea said sending them off. "Morning Annabel."  
"Morning," she greeted them.  
"You still interested in doing some reading with me, Annabel?"  
"Yes." she said, timidly.  
"Good, because I found something I think you'll enjoy reading with me! It's a surprise though."  
Abigail laughed gently.  
"Hosea, you are such a good man. He tried to teach me to read a while ago."  
"You have what it takes Abigail!" Hosea said, before taking a sip of coffee "We'll get back into it."  
"Well, my priority is Jack now." she said.  
Annabel didn't say anything, but she was relieved to see Abigail couldn't read. Abigail was a lot of things. She was tough, responsible, respected, a good mother. And yet, there were things she couldn't do also. It was a helpful revelation to her bruised ego.  
"Well, I better fix him some breakfast." Abigail said, taking her leave.  
Hosea kicked back in his chair, enjoying his coffee. Annabel was about to sit with Hosea, but when she spotted Arthur alone, her course changed.  
She went over to him, combing her hair with her fingers. She could see he was writing in his journal.  
"Morning!" she said, forcing a bit of cheerfulness.  
"Miss Annabel, how are you?" He folded his journal.  
"Really good. Can I sit, or am I interrupting?"  
Arthur gestured, inviting her to sit.  
"What are you writing?" She asked. "Is it a diary?"  
He chuckled at her choice of words.  
"Well, sort of i guess."  
"Can I see?"  
"Not in a million years, a man's gotta have some privacy."  
"I'm just playing, Arthur." She twirled her hair.  
Arthur slung one arm over his knee and looked out over the lake.  
"You feeling ok?" He said seemingly out of nowhere.  
"Yeah, I am. Hey, did you know, Pearson asked if I would help him. I guess him and Sadie don't get along."  
"Good. That's good." Arthur said, but his voice was distracted.  
"Well, just to find a way to help out."  
"Yeah, its a good thing" Arthur affirmed, again.  
"...What's wrong?"  
"Oh, nothing, just... stuff on my mind. It is a good thing. Pearson probably talk your ear off but somehow I don't think you'll mind."  
"No, I won't mind..." she said quietly.  
She was disappointed Arthur wasn't as engaged as he had been in other conversations. She decided it would be best to leave, rather than annoy him.  
"Well, talk later Arthur." She said, slowly getting up and walking away. He waved to her, eyes still on the water.  
It was mid day when Annabel sat down with Tilly and Mary-Beth for a break. Tilly was sewing up a canvas bag while Mary-Beth was chatting, book in hand. They were in the middle of some gossipy conversation. The two were always giggling.  
"I ain't got time for things like that now anyway," Tilly said blushing.  
"Time for what?" Annabel asked, joining them on the ground.  
"Len-ny" Mary-Beth whispered. "Don't you think he's cute! I think he likes Tilly, he's always so sweet to her."  
"He's sweet to everyone." Tilly interjected.  
"I'm just saying!" Mary-Beth laughed.  
"You're always 'just' saying" Tilly joked, pretending to be mad, her head held high as she tied off the end of the thread.  
"Oh you know what else? I heard Arthur got a letter from that Mary girl." Mary-Beth leaned in again.  
"Who's Mary?" Annabel asked, quieter than she intended.  
"She the one Mrs. Grimshaw hates? I ain't never met her but I've heard stories" Tilly said, not looking up from her work.  
"Yeah, that's her. Yeah, you weren't around when she was about, guess it was longer ago than I realized. I only saw her a couple times before she never came back"  
"Who is Mary?" Annabel asked again, slightly louder.  
"Arthur's financée.." Mary-Beth whispered. "Well, ex-fiancee. Anyway, I saw a letter come in for him, from her! I wonder what it said. I've been meaning to ask him."  
"You just said you 'heard' he got a letter." Tilly caught her.  
"Ok fine! Maybe I had a peek, I couldn't resist, it's so boring here sometimes."  
"You're a shot of whisky away from opening peoples mail, at this point, Mary-Beth" Tilly replied, teasing her friend.  
"Is Arthur... Does- Is she a good person?" Annabel stuttered.  
"I don't know. Arthur is really the only one who seemed to like her. He was crazy about her back then so I hear. Mrs. Grimshaw says he bent over backwards for her and her family. Knowing Arthur, he probably still loves her. He's a romantic at heart."  
"Are you girls enjoying your chat?" Mrs. Grimshaw appeared, slowly crossing her arms.  
"We were just taking a break!" Mary-Beth said, throwing her hands up.  
She got up without waiting for Susan to yell at them, and left.  
"Don't get lazy like Mary-Beth." said Mrs. Grimshaw to Annabel.  
Annabel gulped, and looked at Tilly, who rolled her eyes.  
She returned to her station with a heavy heart. Arthur was far too different from her.  
She began to wash the vegetables in the wash barrel behind the provisions carriage. She looked up to see Arthur, Molly and Uncle talking. Her arms felt as heavy as led.  
She watched the group talking, Arthur smoking a cigarette. Molly could be seen storming off, as Bill and Charles were wrangled into the conversation.  
"I have to take it one day at a time." she told herself. "Things are better everyday. If Arthur has someone, then he has someone. If he doesn't, he may still not want me."  
She wasn't good cheering herself up. She looked up to see the men ride off.  
She finished chopping the vegetables, tossing the scraps in a bucket for the horses. She brought the bucket of scraps to the hitch.  
"Mrs. Adler? What are you doing out here?"  
"I'm on patrol til nightfall." She said.  
Annabel noticed she was wearing pants. Her hair in a side braid.  
"Oh. You... aren't afraid?"  
"Of what! The dark?" Sadie busted out sarcastically, a little more rudely than she intended.  
"No, no.. if someone comes?"  
"Tch, the only thing I'm afraid of out here, is catching a flash of one of these bozos taking a leak."  
"Fair enough." Annabel said with admiration, leaving Sadie to herself.  
The evening came and Annabel sat with Hosea. He went over some books with her to get a sense of where she was in reading.  
Hosea was a good teacher, kind and patient. He was also forcefully encouraging.  
"That's enough for now Annabel. I think it's a good start." Hosea said, closing the book. "It's getting dark out anyway."  
"So is this where camp will stay?" Annabel asked him.  
"Hmm, it's unlikely. We have plans to move out but... Dutch recently got himself in with some folks in Rhodes so, we may look there for some money before we move on. But we will move on."  
"Will you ever stop?"  
"That's the plan... but these days, I'm not so sure." Hosea coughed a bit, clearing his throat. "Excuse me."  
He got up and left. Annabel could hear opera music playing from Dutch's tent. She could see him dancing with Molly by the lake. What a nice sight. What a romantic sound.


	5. Normalcy

Chapter 5: Normalcy  
The next few days came and went.  
Arthur had left with Lenny, and came back with a wagon full of weapons. She heard Lenny tell the whole story to Javier and John. Lenny was very proud and they seemed proud of him in return. She hadn't intended to be so dreary, but she was emotionally drained. She noted Pearson was being very kind towards her. His way of being kind was clumsy but well intentioned. She would tell him she was fine, she was just tired. And it was true.  
The days passed, and Annabel got her energy back. She would watch Arthur leave and learned after asking enough times that most of the time, no one knew where he was going or when he'd be back. But it was the same for most of men; they came and went as they pleased.   
Her spirits were raised by talking with the girls. Kieran and her got along, both mild mannered, they enjoyed the peace of feeding and caring for the animals. They both knew a bit of botany and they bonded over that. Overall, it felt like a home to her.  
It was around noon that day, when she looked up from cleaning dishes and tools to see Arthur. Her mood brightened though she knew he wouldn't be around long. His gun belt hung from his hips as he walked over.  
"Hi—" Annabel began, only to be cut off by Pearson.  
"Hey, Arthur, we're starting to run low on food. Since you're always out..." Pearson said, dropping a hint.  
"Calm down." He snapped, rummaging through his satchel. "You said you lost your compass, so, here." Arthur handed Pearson a particularly old looking compass.  
"Oh ho!" Pearson exclaimed. "That's a beauty! Thank you Mr. Morgan!"  
"Don't mention it." Arthur said, flatly. He shifted his attention to Annabel. "Miss Annabel."   
Her arms submerged to her elbows in water.  
"Hi Arthur!" she smiled.   
Her hair was tied in a low bun, but many strands had come loose in the breeze.  
Arthur couldn't help but smile back. She was certainly the only person he'd ever seen wear a smile like that doing dishes.   
"You enjoyin' yourself here?" he asked, pressing his knuckles into the table.  
"What do you mean?"  
"Never mind. Uh, listen, you wanna go out for a ride with me? I have an errand over near town and I thought..."  
Arthur began to loose his nerve. It sounded an awful lot like he wanted to be alone with her. He could take Sadie out, Mary-Beth out, even Molly out and he wouldn't feel like this. Maybe it was Pearson being within ear-shot that made it odd for him. Arthur noted Pearson's eyebrow raise.  
"...Well, I thought maybe you could use a break. That is, if Mr. Pearson could spare you." He said, hoping to regain his composure.  
Annabel stared doe-eyed for a second before spinning around towards Pearson quickly, splashing a bit of water.  
"Fine by me." Pearson said. "If you're going to town, would you get a few things?" Pearson said, pulling a scrap of paper which hung from a nail on the side of the caravan.  
"I didn't say I was going in to town...But," Arthur sighed. "I'll try."  
"Thank you." He said, handing over the paper.  
Annabel had dried her hands off, and lowered the sleeves of her dress, which fit tight around her arms.   
He walked ahead to the horses, eager to get out of whatever made him uncomfortable about that situation.  
"We're probably going to be gone most of the day, that alright?" he said, unhitching his horse.   
Annabel assured him it would be fine. Arthur also noted she had retied hair and was busy straightening her dress out. Arthur hoisted her up on his horse so she could sit behind him.  
He nodded to Sean who was on patrol as he trotted by.  
"See ya Morgan, an' Miss if ya don't bring him back, we wont mind!" Sean laughed at his own joke.  
It was another clear day out. The country side was beautiful. Annabel instantly felt calm and happy. She didn't care where they were going but she asked for conversations sake.  
"Well, I have some business a bit West to take care of, then we can get these things for Pearson."  
"Why did you... ask me to come?"  
"I invited you to come, because I thought you could use a break from camp. That's all."  
Annabel wished she hadn't asked.   
They rode in silence. Arthur again felt Annabel lean her head on his back. Her hands on his waist- tightly at first and then more relaxed as she felt more stable on the horse.  
"There are so many dogs running around..." Annabel observed as the horse paced evenly through the country side.   
Arthur raised an eyebrow.  
"Where're you seeing dogs?" He asked over his shoulder.  
"Or wolves?"  
"These things? These are coyotes." He said. "You ain't never seen one?"  
They rode on for a while. Annabel absorbed the scenery, she'd never seen open country like this. At once she could see the water, the beach disappearing behind some cliffs, and to the other side, expansive, rolling hills.  
The truth was Arthur wasn't looking forward to returning to the Downe's Ranch. He didn't like the way Strauss played his hand.   
'I feed the women and children of this camp' Strauss' has said to him.  
Arthur turned into a small dirt road which opened up to a modest ranch. He stopped the horse a good distance away from the house, where Annabel could see a woman packing a wagon, while a young boy sat on the stairs.  
"Wait here." Arthur said, dismounting. He walked towards the pair.  
Annabel could barely make out what the woman said to Arthur as he approached, though she seemed to recognize Arthur. Annabel squinted in confusion. Arthur's spoke loudly and she could hear him say something about her husband "knowing the rules", as he raised his hands apologetically. His stance was still daunting by contrast, though the lady stood up to him.  
“He didn't have a choice!" She cried, followed by something Annabel couldn’t hear.  
Annabel urged the horse a little bit closer. The horse moved up a little bit.   
"...and you as good as killed him yourself," the lady said, boldly facing Arthur. "And don't kid yourself, you had a choice."  
The words struck Annabel.  
Arthur replied, unmoved, "You speak as if killing was something I cared about."  
"You ever wonder about eternity? You should." The lady turned her back to Arthur.  
"I hope its hot and terrible, Mrs. Downes, otherwise I'll feel I've been sold a false bill of goods. Now please... give me that money."  
Mrs. Downes heaved a sigh as she walked up her steps and disappeared into her house.  
Annabel felt numb. She was witnessing a different side of Arthur and it troubled her. She watched Arthur interact with the son, who stood his ground against him. He was cold, intimidating, he was a criminal. He looked the part.   
Annabel thought back to the night at the cabin. She knew there were lots of men there, she knew that very well. She knew they were all slain when she emerged from the cabin. She wasn't under an illusions that Arthur wasn't a thief, or maybe a conman, like Hosea seemed to be. But she had convinced herself that he wasn't a cold-blooded killer.  
"You speak as if killing was something I cared about."   
His words echoed in her head, and made her chest tight. Those guns weren't for show, and he wasn't leaving camp all the time to rob the rich and give to the poor. She had to face the fact that he was a killer.  
"Ah, Mrs. Downes, thank you for your punctuality." Arthur's voice picked up.   
Mrs. Downes handed some cash to Arthur, her head held high.   
"Next to Godliness, isn't it?" Arthur said, counting the money.  
"That's cleanliness." Mrs. Downes corrected. She noticed Annabel in the distance.  
"I'll have to take your word on that. Good day." Arthur turned his back to them and walked away. Annabel locked eyes with Mrs. Downes for a few seconds.  
Arthur returned, mounting the horse, not noticing the had moved ever so slightly from where he had left them. \Annabel looked back one more time to see Mrs. Downes and her son hugging before the trees obscured them from sight.  
They rode for a good amount of time before Annabel asked for a break.  
"Can we stop Arthur? I want to sit for a bit." Arthur obliged, pulling off the dirt road to a grassy hill.  
He helped her down and let the horse wander. He sat down in the grass, arms slung over his knees. Annabel took a seat beside him, folding her dress so she could sit on her knees. Arthur seemed quiet, lost in thought.  
"What was all that?" Annabel asked him, finally. "Why was it so important to get money from that lady?"  
Arthur sighed, scratching his cheek.   
"Her husband borrowed money from Strauss. Pay back was due."  
"She said her husband died... If they were broke when he was alive, she'll be more broke now, won't she?"  
"Yeah... most likely."  
"You're ok with that?" Annabel scanned his stern face for sympathy.  
"Look, if you're trying to search me for some moral code, change the subject, Miss. I ain't got one."  
Annabel frowned at his callous response towards her. She wanted to hear something comforting from him. Perhaps the Downe’s family were liars, or cheats, anything.  
"Arthur, that's wrong." She tried.  
"I'm not saying it ain't. But you live off the same money that I just took. And this was tame, no blood spilled, no nothing. It could have gon' a lot worse."  
Annabel looked downwards. Arthur reached into the breast pocket of his black vest and pulled out a pack of cigarettes from which he took one. He lit it and took a drag. They sat in silence for some time.  
"Listen, I know you came from a big house, with lots of food and servants and who knows what, but out here... Well you know by now that out here things don't get served to you. And when you have others to provide for, of which you are one, let me remind you, you start to not get so holy about how you get money."  
He took a drag of the cigarette.  
Annabel hugged her knees to her chest.   
"I came from a big house, sure. But I didn't benefit from it in anyway. Don't know why you think that." She said quietly, staring at the grass.   
She was disappointed in Arthur's attitude. The dissonance between what she saw in him and what he projected to Mrs. Downe’s baffled her.   
Maybe she was more disappointed in his situation, rather than him.  
Arthur looked over at her. Her hair fell over her face, the silhouette of her shoulder blades poked through the back of her dress.  
"Now can I ask you something?" He exhaled smoke, attempting to keep it out of her general direction.  
"What?"  
"Where did you come from then? You were a servant at some big house but that's all you've ever said."  
"It is true. The man who owned it, he owned a big plantation, he owned... some sort of shop, I never saw it and he owned a brewery."   
Again, she found herself stuttering over her words. It made her nervous to just talk about it.  
"Well just... something don't add up." Arthur said, leaning back on one arm.   
Annabel was about to defend herself when he continued.   
"No no, I believe you were there. I just don't understand. You, a pretty little white girl, come in to be a servant there? Yet you didn't have any house maid skills..."  
Annabel swallowed. His hat tilted in front of his face and for a moment she couldn't see his eyes.  
"Well according to you anyway. You couldn't sew or cook. You didn't work with the live stock, if you've never seen a coyote... So he didn't educate you in chores. What did you do there?"  
Annabel felt a pit in her stomach. Annabel searched for the words. More than anything she didn't want to tell Arthur this.  
"I was just his servant. That's why. I just served him." Her eyes were searching the ground, as if the words were hidden in the grass. "I would...bring him food and, things like that."  
"That is a very specific job." Arthur laughed.  
"Yeah I guess we both have things we aren't proud of." Annabel got up and walked away quickly.  
"Wha...hey, where you going?" Arthur put out his cigarette and got up.  
Annabel wasn't going to run away, she just wanted to put some distance between them so he couldn't see the tears run down her face. She didn't want to remember her past when she was with him. She walked away, wiping her eyes with her palms. She was taken by surprised when Arthur grabbed her arm and turned her around.  
"Hey, what are you trying to do?" He paused when he saw her distressed face. She had the same defeated and exhausted look she had worn so often when he first met her.   
"Annabel... Look, I don't know what I said, but forget I said it."  
He found her different from the other girls in the camp. She was quick to cry, easy to upset. At the same time, she was easy to cheer up and seemed happy at small things. Maybe the world hadn't hardened her enough yet. She was running away from something and she was too sensitive to hide it.  
"It's fine." Annabel said.   
She meant it, it was absolutely fine if he dropped it right now.  
Annabel turned at the sound of a horse neighing in the trees behind her. A tiny Morgan was grazing, riderless.   
They could hear the voice of someone in the woods, though it was difficult to make out.  
"Someone is over there?" Annabel asked, not expecting an answer.   
Her eagerness to evade the topic of discussion caused her to investigate. Arthur was taken by surprise to find her walking off towards the sound. But he followed anyway. In the clearing in the woods stood a man, hunkered over a tall piece of equipment.  
"Hello?" Annabel called out.  
The man startled, hand to his chest.  
"Oh! Hello! Quite a day isn't it?" The man looked around, in appreciation.  
"Sure." Arthur replied, following behind Annabel.  
"And! What a country." The man continued. "I'm working on a project...photography!"  
"Yeah, I guessed that bit." Arthur said, examining the camera setup.   
Annabel examined it, though she'd seen one before.  
The man chuckled jovially.   
"Of course! Wildlife... That's my thing. Or that's... what I want to be my thing. If I have to take another picture of a grumpy house frau or a pompous middle-class burgher, I'll feed myself to the lions."  
Arthur looked back at Annabel, shrugging. She was amused from the start.  
"Stand here." The man directed Arthur to a spot, and shifted Arthur's position just so. "Albert Mason." The man introduced, holding out his hand.  
"Arthur Morgan." He responded, returning the handshake.  
"Pleasure! I'm trying to find and capture images of our great predators, before our greatest predators kill them all and stick them to some clubhouse wall." Albert returned to his position behind the camera.  
"Good luck with that." Arthur sneered.  
"Yes..." Continued Albert. "Not the easiest. But well, I love a challenge... The trick is to leave a big load of meat..."  
Annabel's attention was caught by a small coyote sniffing a bag not 10 feet from her, cautiously, as to not arise suspicion.  
"...oh! Good heavens!" Albert cried as he spotted the coyote. "That thing is robbing me!"  
"That thing is a coyote." Arthur said, nodding to Annabel.  
She burst into a smile.   
"A sneaky one too, I'll get your bag back!" Arthur disappeared after the coyote.  
"Oh heavens... That bag has a lot of my stuff you see... hmm, uh." The man fumbled his hands, watching Arthur disappear.  
"Oh sorry, I'm Albert, as you no doubt heard" He offered his hand.  
"Annabel." She greeted back, shaking his hand. She was smiling at his anxious nature as he worried about his effects.  
"Annabel, yes, that's a lovely name. Is he going to make it back? Can he catch a coyote?"  
"I don't know if he can catch one, I just saw one for the first time today." She said, though Albert laughed taking it as a joke.  
"I probably shouldn't have put the meat in the same bag as my supplies...hmmm... Bad idea?"  
"Maybe." she laughed.  
"Oh I am a fool..." He said decidedly. He began fidgeting with his camera.  
"Got your bag." Arthur appeared, slightly out of breath. "A bag full of meat will tend to bring out the worst in the local population."  
Albert laughed at himself.   
"You are a gentlemen." he said, patting Arthur on the shoulder. "The bag also had a lot of my supplies as I was telling young Miss Annabel here. You've saved me days."  
"Don't worry about it." Arthur said, signaling for Annabel to take their leave together.  
He whistled for his horse once they breached the clearing.  
"What?" Arthur asked her, noting her smile.  
"He was kinda funny."  
"Yeah, he kinda was. Wildlife photography..." Arthur shook his head.  
♦♦♦

They rode on for a good while before Arthur broke the silence.  
"Now...We stop in town to collect Pearson's things, then head home... What are you looking at?" Arthur noticed over his shoulder that Annabel was fixed on something in the distance.  
"The mountains," she said "they're really... something. Everything out here is so beautiful."   
Arthur could tell she meant it.  
"Yeah, its a pretty piece of country... You ain't seen mountains back home though?"  
"Not from inside, really. Mostly saw just the property through the windows..." She said, still distracted by the scenery.  
"So...what? You never went out?" Arthur tried.  
"Not often."  
Arthur was carefully choosing his next words, when he caught sight of something in the trees.  
"There he is boys! That's Dutch's gun!" A voice yelled from the trees.  
"Get 'em!" Echoed another.  
Arthur reached for his gun as four men came out of hiding. He shot the first aggressor, the bullet blowing a hole through his head, his jaw contorting on impact. Arthur's horse reared as the open fire whipped by. Arthur's shoulder hit her hard in the head, sending her flying off the horse.  
She hit the ground hard, with a short scream.  
Arthur fired again wounding two men. He jumped off his horse who promptly fled the scene.  
"C'mon, get up." He urged.  
He grabbed Annabel roughly around the arm and slide to a nearby rock for cover.   
"Keep low."  
Two more men came on horseback, bearing shot guns. She watched Arthur swiftly swing the rifle off his back and fire two shots upon exhale. One of the riders fell limp, subsequently dragged away by his horse.   
For a second, she locked focus with his dead eyes and his contorted face as he was dragged away.  
Arthur fired again, hitting the next rider in the chest. He slumped over his horse, as it galloped off. At that moment, another assailant charged Arthur, tackling him to the ground. In what seemed like a blur, the man scrambled to get up lest Arthur get the upper hand. He landed a swift punch against Arthur's jaw.   
In a fortunate turn of events, Arthur grabbed assailant's shirt, and landed punch and after punch until blood spurted from the man’s face. He tossed him to the side and got up. He stood over the man, drew the pistol from his holster and shot him in the face before he could get up again.  
Breathing heavily Arthur looked around. It felt like seconds filled with hours had passed. One of the men struggled to his feet, and limped away.  
"You ok? He asked Annabel.  
He fired an arid shot at the escapee, and he flopped to the ground. Annabel jerked and covered her ears in surprise.   
Arthur wiped blood from his face.   
"Come on, now." He said, reaching his hand out.   
She hesitated for a moment and before taking his hand. Her face hurt from where he shouldered her but she wasn't about to say anything.  
She looked around. There was some carnage to be seen.   
"You killed them all."  
"Yep everyone of 'em." He whistled for his horse. "Look, it was them or us."   
He said pointing to the man with the bullet hole in the side of his head.  
"You're not kidding... Are you ok?"   
She saw a cut on his lip, which he didn't seem to notice.  
"I'm fine. Let's get you home."  
The words rang nicely to her.   
On the way back, Arthur scolded himself. He should have realized it was dangerous to take Annabel out. Sadie or Karen, they can handle themselves and a gun, but Annabel didn't know anything about that. He wondered if it would traumatize her to some degree. Equally, he thought, maybe it was what she needed to see in order to harden herself a bit more. There seemed to be no perceivable pattern to determine what nature of things disturbed her.   
He felt Annabel's head rest on his back as the rode. And whereas her hands used to cling to his waist, now her arms were wrapped around his stomach.  
They arrived back at camp in the late evening.  
"You're alright Annabel?" Arthur said before letting her go.  
"Oh I'm fine! Thank you Arthur. For saving me again." She walked away, leaving him behind.  
"Don't mention it.." he said to himself.


	6. Roles and responsibilities

Chapter 6: Roles and responsibilities  
Annabel spent the next few days in a much lighter mood. She was elated to be contributing to camp and happy with the nature of the work. To her dismay, Arthur would come and go, sometimes sleeping at camp, sometimes not. She practised some reading with Hosea and found his company rather calming.  
Two nights had passed since Dutch and Micah returned to camp without Arthur. She had trained herself to not pay it any mind, as Arthur seemed to wander more than the rest of them. Something about Micah being involved in this scenario made it different in her eyes and left a terrible feeling lingering in her gut.  
It was hard for her to make out his silhouette in the blackness of the night, as she sat by the campfire. He was hunched over, but his horse was remarkable enough for her to know it was him. He fell from his horse and hit the ground.  
"Arthur!" she cried. She ran over with Mary-Beth and Karen.  
He had been shot in the chest and beaten. Dutch appeared over him.  
"I told you it was a set up Dutch..." Arthur forced.  
Annabel couldn't take her eyes of of him, she could hear the pain in his voice.  
Dutch called for Mrs. Grimshaw.  
"He was gonna set the law on us!" Arthur forced in a growl.  
"Oh, of course he was!" Dutch helped Arthur up.  
They walked Arthur over to the cot. Annabel stood back with the girls.  
"I can't believe Arthur was kidnapped." Mary-Beth said through a hand pressed over her mouth.  
"Bet they're all dead now..." Karen said without a smile and flicking her cigarette.  
Mrs. Grimshaw settled by Arthur's side. She patted his hand and took a seat by his bed.  
"That's the first time I've ever seen Arthur shot, let alone beaten like that..." Mary-Beth continued.  
"What's Mrs. Grimshaw doing?" Annabel asked.  
"She'll probably stay with him the night. Make sure he don't catch fever, or die, or you know. She'd do it for any of us."  
"I'd rather die alone." Karen, countered.  
The girls watched in silence for a bit before they took to bed.  
Worry course through her mind, and Annabel could not sleep. They weren't giving him any medicine. They hadn't inspected the wound or even cleaned it. Mrs. Grimshaw was well intentioned but just sitting there was not enough to guarantee his recovery. Annabel waited as long as she could before sneaking out into the trees. She fumbled around by moonlight, looking for certain plants. Owls and crickets sung around her. She amassed three separate batches of herbs. She quietly made her way to Hosea's tent. She checked that he was asleep before she carefully searched around.  
"Annabel? What are you doing?" Hosea questioned groggily.  
"Oh!" she whispered in surprise. "Oh, Hosea, I'm so sorry to wake you. Mrs. Grimshaw um... she wanted me to find the herb grinder. Not sure why, I think she's making tea to stay awake."  
"The mortar? It's on Pearson's table." Hosea dropped his head back on his pillow immediately.  
She found the mortar and pestle and then made her way to the beach. She needed the moonlight to examine the herbs she'd gathered one more time. She looked over her shoulder, back at camp. Aside from the men patrolling the edge of camp, no one was awake.  
She began to grind away at the herbs until they made a paste. She dusted the sand off of her, and straightened her dress before leaving to see Mrs. Grimshaw.  
"Mrs. Grimshaw?"  
"Oh! You startled me, dear." She whispered. "What is it?"  
Annabel had her hands behind her back, concealing the paste.  
"I was just up and I saw you were still here. I can't seem to fall back asleep, would you like a break? I could sit for a bit and if I notice anything, I can come get you."  
"Oh why, yes. Yes, I would really like to lay down. Thank you Annabel." Mrs. Grimshaw got up from her seat, offering it to Annabel.  
Annabel watched her leave.  
Arthur was asleep, beads of sweat on his face. His breathing wasn't laboured but it was raspy, no doubt due to the damage to his ribs. She leaned over him to get a closer look at the wound.  
"Oh, I almost forgot." Mrs. Grimshaw suddenly reappeared.  
Annabel jolted in the seat, clenching her teeth tightly.  
"Be sure to check him for fever, and come get me if you think it develops, ok?"  
Annabel nodded, rapidly.  
She waited a good bit longer before again, leaning over to inspect his wound. She brought the lantern a bit closer.  
He smelt of dry blood and his wound reeked of gunpowder. Upon examination she understood why. He had sealed his own wound, there was no getting in there to clean it.  
She set the paste on the cot. Slowly she unfastened the remaining buttons on his shirt. Dragging her fingers gently over his chest, she carefully lifted away the fabric which had adhered itself to his bloody wound. She glanced up to his face to see if he felt it, but he didn't move.  
With the shirt peeled open, and the wound revealed, she gently brushed away the excess blood with a wet cloth that had been used for his head. She then scooped up some paste. She carefully applied it directly on the wound.  
"I hope you cleaned this Arthur..." she said so softly. "This should help. It's better than nothing."  
She buttoned up his shirt again, letting her hand rest on his chest, which strongly rose and fell with each breath. She reached over with the other hand, resting it on his forehead. He had a cold sweat but it didn't seem like a fever. She let her hand slide down the side of his face and along his jaw.  
There she remained until the morning.  
The next morning, Mary-Beth, Swanson and Mrs. Grimshaw took turns keeping an eye on Arthur throughout the day. Annabel made a point of mentioning that she didn't mind taking the night shift.  
"I just can't sleep these days." She would say.  
She helped Pearson with the chores, and did the dishes during the day. She snuck off to the woods to fetch what herbs she could during her breaks. The camp slowed down a bit with Arthur out. Annabel over heard Bill say they should wait until their "insurance policy" was back in action on one occasion.  
When it was late at night, she replaced Swanson by Arthur's side.  
"I don't know if he's doing so well..." Swanson said before he left.  
Annabel took a seat on the bed beside him. She waited until she was sure it was quiet. She could hear a few men patrolling near the scout fire, but that was far enough away.  
She again, applied some paste to his wound. It had began to bruise throughout the day, which didn't surprise her.  
"Arthur..." she whispered, caressing his face. "Arthur, you need to wake up for a minute. I have medicine for you to take."  
She gently tugged at his shoulder in attempts to wake him. He groaned.  
"Arthur, here, open your mouth." She ran her fingers on his lips to coax them open.  
She brought a cup of water to his mouth which contained plant matter and held his head up so he could drink. He took a small sip before collapsing back down.  
"You need to drink more, Arthur..." she said.  
She waited a few minutes before trying again. She spent the next few hours focusing on getting small amounts of water into him.  
It was the faint early morning light that woke Arthur. It was still mostly dark out, but what little light there was forming in the sky made his head ache. He attempted to lift his hand to his face when shards of pain emitted from his chest, causing him to wince painfully. He propped himself up on his other arm to find Annabel asleep. Her head was resting on her folded arm beside him. Arthur didn't dwell on it too long before the pain caused him to fall back on his back. His head spun and he fell back to sleep.  
For the next few nights, Annabel snuck Arthur medicine at night until she believed he received an adequate to ensure he wouldn't acquire an external infection.  
And indeed, the following weeks saw Arthur recover. He gained more and more motion with his arm, as the muscle around the wound healed. He eased into normalcy by tending to various tasks around the camp.  
The nights were filled with table games, which Annabel would observe and not participate in. And the days were filled with chores and ambling about camp. She hadn't had a chance to have any real conversation with Arthur. He had thanked her in passing for tending to him, like he had thanked the other girls. But besides that, the days were lost to them.  
It was one quiet evening, just as the sun was beginning to set, that Arthur sat himself on a log by the shore alone. He was writing in his journal, about the weeks that had past, how surprised he was that he wasn't dead yet. He spotted Annabel returning from a walk down the beach. He waved to her and she smiled in return. He finished his writing and closed his journal in time for her to arrive.  
"Strolling the beach are we? Mrs. Grimshaw know about you slackin'?" He said, squinting up at her.  
His gentle joshing always eased her into comfitability.  
"And why do you have that? That seaweed?" Arthur questioned.  
"Yeah, it is. It's good for you."  
"You mean to eat it? I'll pass." Arthur said, inviting her to sit beside him.  
"Well, you've already had it."  
"Is that so? Enlighten me."  
"Yeah, I ground some into some medicine that I... gave to you when you were injured." Her voice slowed as she realized she hadn't told anyone she'd done this.  
She wasn't sure if Arthur even remembered.  
"You don't say. What good is it?"  
Relieved he didn't seem to dwell on it, she continued.  
"As far as I've been told, it has lots of vitamins, minerals, fats, lots of good things."  
"Huh. Well, who knew. Hosea tell you that?"  
"No no. I learned it from a lady who used to live in the homestead I worked at. She brought a lot of knowledge about medicine from her native land... Though I can't recall where she was from."  
"No kiddin', she a doctor?"  
"No, no she was a servant there. I have fond memories of her though, she was actually kind." Annabel placed the seaweed on the log beside her, drying her hands on her dress.  
"Were folk there unkind to you?"  
"I think everyone there was unkind to everyone. Fear does that to people, you know."  
"Fear of what?"  
"Never mind.  
The water rolled off the shore with increasing force as stronger winds rolled off the water.  
"I have to go, Arthur." She said solemnly.  
Arthur nodded in understanding.  
"Just one thing Miss. Don't let what people done to you in the past dictate your future, ok?"  
She stood quiet for a moment, before leaving. Those were words she would remember for the rest of her life.


	7. Distance & Chaos

Chapter 7: Distance & Chaos  
It was the following day when Arthur left for the first time in weeks. She was relieved that he would be away because she was about to sit with Hosea to work on reading. She found it hard to concentrate with him around, and also embarrassing.  
"So Annabel, you feel good about your progress so far? I know its tough, but I hope you recognize you're making strides."  
"I don't think so."  
Hosea laughed, kindly.  
"I knew you'd say that. Abigail was like you too. You ladies are always so hard on yourselves, you know? I have something more fun today then Jack's books."  
"I like Jack's books" Annabel said.  
It was true. Jack's books were perhaps targeted towards a younger audience, but they were exciting, and full of adventure. They followed the story of an infamous outlaw and various circumstances he found himself in. For the character in the book, everything always turned out ok. And it was a fantasy she wanted to endorse.  
He presented a small newspaper clipping.  
"Well, I think you'll like this too. This...! Is from a newspaper well over a decade ago, 1887, twelve years ago!" Hosea trumpeted.  
Annabel smiled.  
"It catalogues our first real robbery, me, Dutch and Arthur."  
"What?" Annabel said, in humorous disbelief.  
"Oh yes, we kept it. Here, scoot over, and follow along as I read it."  
Annabel brought her chair closer to Hosea and titled her head a bit so she could follow along. The three of them really were close, she thought to herself. Some families may have photo albums, and some had news paper clippings from their first robbery.  
"Ready? Ahem:  
Major T.J. Belford has been a cashier at the banking house of Lee and Hoyt for a number of years but nothing prepared him for what transpired last week. 'It was about 2 o'clock. Three men, strangers to me, came through the door and walked up to the counter. One of them, the eldest of the three was a fine talker and engaged me in conversation'."  
Hosea paused here.  
"That would be me, they are referring to as the smooth talking elderly man. It's what we call a slighted compliment."  
Hosea winked and Annabel smirked at his remark.  
He continued reading.  
"'Suddenly, the largest, a big, sullen young man, brandished a firearm and held it up to my face. "Throw up your h—-"'"  
"Arthur?" Annabel interrupted.  
"You know it. Big. Sullen. The description still fits him, safe for the young part." Hosea quipped.  
Annabel couldn't contain her smile, she was wildly intrigued by the blast from the past. Hosea noted her enthusiasm and continued reading.  
"'I was never so terrified in my life' Mr. Belford told a reporter. The robbers are reported to have lingered in town and there unproven claims that the men travelled to hovels and shanties and even a home for orphans and gave handfuls of ill-gotten gains to the poor.'"  
Hosea beamed from ear-to-ear, loosing himself in the past for a moment.  
"Did you actually give the money away?" Annabel asked inquisitively.  
"Some of it, yes, we gave some of it away. Back then, we weren't seeking money so desperately all the time. Sure, we needed it, but not like now. That was the foundation our gang grew on."  
"So there wasn't so much shooting and killing?"  
"There was, yes. That came with the territory but admittedly, we holstered our weapons much more than we do now."  
"I really liked that, Hosea."  
"I thought you might."  
"You should give to the poor more often! I bet it felt good."  
"Yeah it did, those days were good. Dutch used to always say he and I could talk our way out of 90% of things, and we had Arthur for that other 10%."  
Annabel's expression sadden.  
"Because he would fight them?  
"Well Dutch was a very good shot, but Arthur's was something else. He must have been born a fighter. Arthur bonded with us quickly, and it made him fiercely loyal."  
"Aren't you friends?"  
"The three of us? Of course we are. Arthur, Dutch, we're like a family."  
"I guess... I just wish he- you all, didn't have to be in these situations. You could maybe have normal lives. Not that this isn't lovely, its just-"  
"Annabel..." Hosea's tone changed as he took pause. "I've been meaning to talk to you about something. I see the way you watch Arthur. It's as clear as day, it really is."  
Annabel's mouth instantly felt dry. Her eyes widened and fixed on Hosea.  
"I see how your mood elevates when he is around and fades when he's gone."  
"Hosea- I..."  
"I saw you the night he was shot. I know you snuck him medicine and -"  
"Hosea, please, I was just concerned, I didn't mean to step over anyone it's just that no one was-" she pleaded.  
"Shh, no it's fine, I'm not angry. My point is... You're young. You're a real sweet girl and we like you. Arthur is, for one, not compatible with you. Trust me when I say, he is hardened. And two, he is very much not seeking romantic relationships, casual or otherwise. And three..."  
Hosea sighed heavily.  
"Three, he is a lot more of an outlaw than you seem to realize. Most of us are. We're wanted men, Miss. Dutch, Arthur, Myself."  
Annabel searched Hosea's face.  
"I don't expect anything from Arthur." Her voice cracked slightly.  
"No, I don't think you do. I just wanted you to know the situation, that's all." Hosea said, leaning back in his chair.  
"Ok." She said, almost inaudibly. "Excuse me."  
She got up and left. Her heart pounded and her face was hot. Hosea watched her leave with some sympathy for her. Someone, he thought to himself, ought to set her straight sooner than later. It was clear to Hosea that Arthur was oblivious to her existence most days.  
Annabel was not proud of the fact that she hid away on her bedroll the rest of the night. She fell into a deep sleep. The next day she made herself scarce around the camp, not wanting to talk to anyone. It was late evening when her ears finally perked and took notice of the commotion going on in the camp.  
Abigail was yelling, demanding that Dutch find her son. Annabel approached along with Bill, Charles and a few others. Some yelling ensued and many of the men, including Arthur left. The girls rushed to comfort Abigail but she would have none of it. She wouldn't be right until Jack was back.  
It was early in the morning when the men returned. Annabel kept her distance as Dutch, John, Arthur and Hosea discussed around a table. It was then her eyes caught Lenny, approaching Dutch. At gunpoint, Lenny lead two well dressed men. Annabel knew more or less who they were. She watched as the gang slowly encroached around the two visitors. Even Pearson left her side to make a presence.  
The gang made a stand together. It turns out, Arthur wasn't the only one loyal to the gang. The two men parted as quickly as they had arrived, and left concern in their wake.  
The very next thing she knew, Annabel was packing up along with the others. Tents were collapsed, packed and carriages were ready to go. She looked back at the serene lake front as they all rode off. She would never forget it.


	8. Home is Nowhere

Chapter 8: Home is nowhere  
They seemed to travel much further this time, it took a lot longer to get to their destination. A narrow, densely forested path eventually broke away to reveal a dilapidated mansion. The girls were excited by the idea of such a beautiful mansion to spend time in, but Annabel wasn't impressed. She'd spent her life in one and it didn't excite her at all.  
Dutch ordered Mrs. Grimshaw and Pearson to organize the camp and subsequently stole Arthur away. She had been solemn since her conversation with Hosea and decided to focus on supporting Abigail. She handled whatever chores she could for her and brought her supper. It was the next day that John, Dutch and Arthur left to retrieve Jack.  
The whole camp paced that night, no one settled. Abigail shifted from putting all her hope into Dutch and then to not trusting he was going to come through.  
"Abigail!" Dutch's' distinct and booming voice echoed from beyond the black forest. "Abigail! We have brought you your son! Everything is fine now!"  
Most of the gang ran to Abigail as she lead Jack back inward to the campfire, crowding around them as he talked about Italian food, and slippers and toys. She seemed to be the only one who knew what spaghetti was, having seen it in her previous home. Pearson shouted in excitement, running towards Jack. Surely, it would be another night of singing and celebrating. Javier brought his guitar and sang a song to which a lot of the gang seemed to know. The chatter and laughing drifted through the night air. Arthur sat by the fire with the others, across from Annabel.  
For the first time, her heart ached to even look at him. It was a hurt that was difficult for her to understand. It wasn't mean or abusive. He hadn't done anything to her, yet she could almost swear she felt physical pain. It was a longing she couldn't understand.  
She tussled feelings she'd never had a chance to experience yet. Since meeting him, a slew of wonderful things had formed around her. She had friends. She was learning normal chores. She was learning how to care for herself and others. She was learning to read. She was seeing the world. She was in love.  
She was in love. Annabel decided that night by the fire that it didn't matter how Arthur felt about her. It didn't matter how he wanted to live his life. She came to love him very quickly and because he was who he was. Not because he ever did what she hoped he would, because certainly, he almost never did.  
She decided then that if Arthur never noticed her, it wouldn't matter. Nothing could change what he meant to her. She would always be there for him.  
Annabel sat around the table with the other girls, learning song about being a whore, some of which hit a little too close to home. Yet Javier played the guitar so skilfully, she could get passed it. She could hear Dutch and Molly fighting and craned her head to see Molly storm off.  
The later part of the night saw some men particularly drunk, and by that point Annabel has had enough. She left the party and fell asleep on the couch. Things had been happening so fast. Again she had overheard Mary-Beth talking to Arthur about his past with Mary. Annabel couldn't decipher what sort of relationship the two had together. She was the most fortunate she'd ever been in her life. The person who made her the happiest, also made her the loneliest.  
More days passed in relative peace. They were all the same for Annabel though she seemed to be the only girl who didn't mind the monotony of routine. Arthur had be absent for many days and Annabel had pushed him out of her mind, giving her heart a much needed break.  
He had caught her off guard one afternoon when he approached from behind her. She had been hanging laundry behind the caravan towards the back of the camp. It was quiet there.  
"How you doing Annabel?" It felt like a long time since he'd addressed her.  
"Oh! Arthur, you scared me!" She jumped.  
He stood as he normally did, hands on his belt. It didn't help that she found him so handsome.  
"My apologizes." He said raising his hands to his side. "You wanna ride with me?"  
Her face brightened with excitement, which always made Arthur smile.  
"Yes! Now? When?"  
"Well, just finish up and meet me by the horses."  
"Ok!" She shouted, as she picked up her pace.  
Arthur took his leave, smiling to himself. It always entertained him how easily she was excited.  
"Mrs. Grimshaw, Annabel has agreed to come with me." Arthur approach Susan who was looming over Karen and Mary-Beth. "I've got the loot, we'll head over to the Fence in Emerald Ranch. I've met him a few times now. Might be a day or so."  
"Oh thank you Arthur, she's been so down lately, I just hate to see it. It'll do her good to get out of her for a bit."  
"She seemed fine to me, but ok."  
"Yeah, well I can explain that one." Karen snarked.  
Mary-Beth gently gave her an elbow.  
Arthur kept walking collecting trinkets from anyone who wanted to take advantage of the errand.  
He loaded the trinkets in the saddle bag, and waited for Annabel.  
"Ready?" She asked.  
"Sure." He said in that way Annabel always noticed.  
He helped her up on the horse and rode off.  
The horse paced briskly down the trail, leaving Shady Belle behind.  
"You sure you're ok coming out? After last time, I mean."  
"Of course, I'm so excited to see this area. Its so bizarre here. There are Alligators sleeping on the shore just off the property! Have you seen them?"  
"Yeah I've seen 'em."  
"Where we going?"  
"A place called Emerald Ranch. It's quite a ride away from here, but there's a man there who'll buy all this junk we looted off folk. The money from trinkets like this usually go to the camp."  
Annabel's attention faded from what Arthur was saying. It felt good to be close to him again. He smelt like the fresh air and she pressed her cheek against his shoulder again.  
They rode to Emerald Ranch in one shot. They exchanged the odd word in passing but they were generally quiet. A very large ranch came into view as they cleared a hilltop.  
Arthur rode up and got off the horse.  
"I'll be back." He said, grabbing the saddle bag off the horse.  
Nodding, she slipped off the horse and stretched her back. They had rode much longer than she expected.  
She quickly loved this place too; the long grass swayed in the breeze and the fluffy clouds rolled through the open sky.  
Arthur walk over to a man in a barn and hoisted the saddlebag up on the counter top. She could vaguely hear them shooting the breeze. Arthur's duality struck her once more. He could be so normal sometimes, and so cold blooded other times.  
She thought of Hosea's words.  
Arthur returned twenty minutes later with an empty saddlebag. Annabel wanted to take a break for a while and Arthur agreed, but suggested they ride out a bit farther. As they rode out, Arthur recounted the story of the ridiculous party they had attended at the Mayor's house. A party that had convinced him further than he didn't belong in society.  
She laughed at his telling of the story.  
"Arthur, look!" She said excitedly. "Could that be...?"  
She spotted quite a distance off, Albert Mason, standing in ankle deep water with this camera, with his patient mare grazing in the background.  
"No kidding..." he said as he slowed up. "You know, I forgot to tell you, I saw him not too long ago up in the mountains. Shall we?"  
Annabel nodded excitedly and pushed Arthur gently, urging him to ride closer.  
Her shoes got wet as she landed in the soppy marsh. She could hear Albert cursing and mumbling to himself as they approached.  
"So, you're still alive." Arthur greeted.  
"Oh! Mr. Morgan! And Miss Annabel!" Albert startled.  
"How are you?" Arthur returned.  
"Indigestible, apparently. Aside from that, very well!"  
"How's the project going?" Arthur asked.  
Annabel found her place to his side.  
"Well," he sighed, looking around. "This is God's country and I am his faithful servant. Although perhaps not his most talented one..."  
He rummaged through his bag and pulled out a pair of binoculars which he passed to Arthur.  
"I have been trying to capture the grace of the wild horses here for weeks. Only the buggers can't stand me."  
Arthur peered through the binoculars before pointing to the horses in the distance.  
"That... is a silver dappled pinto." He said, handing the binoculars to Annabel.  
"I know. Beautiful... Won't come anywhere near me of course. They can smell my stupidity."  
Annabel looked through the binoculars and pulled them away quickly. She was surprised by how amazingly far she could see with them.  
"Well, how about I drive them over?" Arthur suggested.  
"Oh..." Albert said perking up. "That might help. Can you be bothered? I feel like such a blunderer."  
"Sure," Arthur said. He put a hand on Annabel's shoulder as he passed "Wait here."  
"At least this time I doubt I'll get eaten!" Albert said cheerily.  
Annabel watched Arthur mount his horse and ride off, the wind blowing her hair over her face.  
"Well this will be spectacular, I am sure, Miss Annabel! I should have asked, is it Miss or Mrs? Are you and Mr. Morgan a, uh..."  
His fingers moved wildly about as he tiptoed around the words.  
"It's Miss," she said politely, if not a bit shyly. "We aren't married but..."  
"Ah, I see, yes, lovers in love, I understand."  
"I don't think that's exactly how he would put it..." Annabel remarked, flushing.  
"Well, I am always grateful to see you both. Oh, here they come! Oh, I've got it!" With a terrific popping noise, the flash went off.  
"Did you see that Annabel!" Albert cheered excitedly.  
The horses stormed past them, disturbing the otherwise still marsh.  
"You are a genius!" He then said to Arthur who dismounted his horse.  
"No, but I can ride a horse." He said.  
"Well, in my world, that makes you a genius" Albert giggled.  
"You're too kind." Arthur all but ignored the compliment. "How are the uh...photos coming along?"  
"Oh amazing! Here!"  
He rummaged in his bag again, and pulled out a photo, handing it over to Arthur.  
"I have a print of the wolves. Before they tried to eat us."  
Annabel leaned in towards Arthur to see.  
"Its for you." Albert said proudly.  
"That's real fine." Arthur said sincerely, handing it to Annabel to look at.  
"Well, thank you."  
"Take care Mister, Mason."  
"You too sir. And you too Miss."  
Arthur lead them back to their horse as Annabel looked over the picture.  
Arthur steered the horse out of the marsh. They rode on a bit before Arthur stopped near a grouping of trees. It was getting late so they could rest there.  
He offered her an apple which she ate while he set up a small fire. He laid the bedroll down so she could sit on it. The trees sheltered their backs from the wind, and the country side and all its hills lay in front of them. Annabel had taken off her shoes to dry.  
"Were you really almost eaten?" She asked, as Arthur sat back, confident the fire had started.  
"Basically, yes." He said.  
"What happened?" she asked, chewing the apple at the same time.  
"Well, he attracted the wolves but he attracted them to himself, rather than the bait." Arthur reminisced.  
"What did you do?"  
"I had to shoot some of 'em but the rest ran off."  
"Were you scared?" She said, tossing the apple core away.  
"Of wolves? Sure. They're mean hunters." He said leaning back on his elbows.  
He didn't sound scared.  
Her long hair played in the breeze, catching the different hues of the sunset. His eyes ran down her profile, past her jaw, and her neck to her collarbone, past a single beauty mark and down her chest. She had lovely wide eyes, presently occupied by the imminent sunset. She looked as though she belong hidden away in a garden parlour somewhere, not on the move with a dangerous gang.  
"Are you scared when you fight people?" She asked, turning her attention to him.  
His eyes snapped up. He was almost certain she saw him looking at her chest. However, her eyes didn't lend any hints that she was aware.  
"What?" He hadn't caught the question.  
"When you're fighting people. Are you afraid?" She repeated, pulling some strands of hair from her mouth, squinting a bit in the sunlight.  
"I don't really think about it like that... I guess, there isn't time to be afraid if your in the thick of things."  
"What do you think about then?"  
"Nothing really. Maybe that's what makes me so good at it."  
"I don't think that's true. And I don't think you don't think about anything, either."  
He laughed at himself a bit.  
"No, that part is true."  
"Hosea said you were always a fighter." Annabel said. "He said you were always like that."  
"He did, huh." Arthur was un-offended.  
"So you were fighting before you met Hosea and Dutch?"  
Arthur hadn't thought that far back in a long time. He had no reason to. His life before Dutch was another life all together.  
"Now that you mention it, I suppose so. Seems like another lifetime before those two."  
"Why? What was it like then? Did you not have parents?"  
Arthur trailed a bit before answering. He wasn't sure where these questions were coming from.  
"I did, for a while. My mother died, she was a good person. And I travelled with my father for a few years after that. He had a different... style from me, I guess you could say. But, bah, that was a long time ago." Arthur said, ready to change the topic.  
"Do you want to fight like this your whole life Arthur?" She asked.  
"No, but I will if I have to."  
"Well," She said, laying down beside him, propping herself on her elbow "I hope you don't have to. But I'll be there if you do."  
He found himself perplexed by her vindicated nature, which he found endearing, however impractical. For him, it was like breathing a different type of air. He had become increasingly aware of how she grew on him. He hadn't paid much attention at first, and not because Mary re-appeared in his life. Slowly though, he began to see her, and he grew a fondness for her that he brushed off as a welcomed change of pace.  
In that moment, he was tempted by how open she left herself to him. She wasn't afraid of him, she didn't seem to want anything from him. She wasn't turned on by his violent capabilities, or in need of a favour. She was open to him. Even he, a man who on principal regularly suppressed natural urges, could be forgiven if he let himself slip just this once. Right?  
Annabel felt her heart thump loudly in her chest as she deciphered his silence. He lingered just a little to long and hadn't pulled his gaze away. His hand slowly reached across. Annabel kept her eyes on his face, her heart exploding with possibilities.  
Thunder rolled in the distance and Arthur dropped his hand. Annabel watched him as he closed his eyes tight, as if shaking off a bad dream. She exhaled quietly. She had gotten her hopes up and it made her feel foolish.  
She lowered her head to the ground. Arthur followed her lead and leaned back onto the ground. They laid there in silence, distant thunder rolling.  
She mused to herself that of all the people she'd met, the one she wanted the most didn't want to touch her. Arthur closed his eyes tightly again, and swallowed hard. He usually found it easy to pass on women. Often their promiscuity didn't appeal to him for reasons he was entirely aware of. His opinions of relations changed a lot since he lost his son.  
They didn't say another word the entire night and Annabel eventually dosed off.  
Arthur woke up before Annabel. The outlaw flushed to see Annabel still fast asleep with one leg slung over his. He groaned a quiet, frustrated sound. They would look like a perfectly ignorant couple to any on lookers, had they not found a well secluded place to sleep. He carefully got up and untangled himself from her. He walked to a running creek where he scooped handfuls of water to wash his face.  
He thought of her last night. Her eyes, so open to him, he could have done anything. He splashed the water on his face, rubbing his neck and hair.  
Annabel came up and hunkered down beside him. She tested the water with her hand and reacted to how cold it was. She took a drink and rubbed her eyes with the water.  
"How you feeling?" Arthur asked, shooting her a side glance.  
"Good, a little bit tired still but good."  
He wondered if she even remembered her dream last night. She sprung to her feet, indicating she was ready.  
"What, you ready to go back?" Arthur looked up at her, a bit surprised.  
"No, not quiet, but I have an idea."  
Arthur stood up to meet her eye line.  
"Oh, but I know you'll try to say no. So just... think about it before you say no."  
He said nothing, knowing he would likely say yes.  
"Let's go to Saint Denis!" she said. "I know-"  
"Saint Denis? Why?" He drawled.  
To him, Saint Denis was a dump.  
"Tilly went with Abigail and Hosea. You've been right? It's a huge city, with lights and parties, she said there was music, and people."  
"Eh... it ain't what you think."  
"Well, they thought so." She begged.  
"It's a dreary place." He tried to dissuade her.  
"Well, I really would love to just see the place and I really wouldn't feel comfortable with anyone but you."  
Normally Arthur would interpret that as manipulation but he knew Hosea had in fact tried to invite her to go with them to Saint Denis, he had told Arthur so. She had declined.  
"Yeah, alright he said." Just like he knew he would.  
She clapped her hands together.  
"Oh I can't believe it!" She exclaimed.  
Neither could Arthur. He walked back to the campfire to make sure it was out.  
Just as the were about to ride off, Arthur remembered he was supposed to meet Trelawny in Saint Denis that same day. He would be waiting there by the afternoon.  
"Annabel, I'm sorry, I just remembered something I have to go today. I- Look, can I take you another day?"  
She believed him, and not wanting to appear hurt she agreed to another day.  
The rode back to camp. It was a long ride for Annabel but she enjoyed it. True to his word, Arthur left an hour or so after dropping her off.


	9. The Beginning of the End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next two chapters will be a bit chaotic, as the events sort of spiral at this point in the game, so bear through them! They are meant to demonstrate that Annabel bears witness to Arthur's struggle from the outside. I found in the game, the characters were so engrossed in their own issues that many (not all but many) didn't seem to notice Arthur deteriorate. I always found that sad. Two chapters of unraveling, hold tight!

Chapter 9: The Beginning of the End  
It was early the next morning when a group of the Van der Linde gang returned in high spirits. It seemed, Annabel had heard, that they made good money the night before, though she hadn't learned the details. More days passed, and Arthur assured he hadn't forgotten about their trip. Yet he had a look of stress on him. Tilly teased Annabel about what exactly Arthur had promised her after the night out they had spent together. Annabel enjoyed the joking but gave her the less exciting, albeit honest answer.  
"He's just going to take me to Saint Denis!" She would reply.  
The days became drearier still as Annabel bared witness to the first attack on their camp. Kieran had rode in headless, followed by an onslaught of O'Driscolls. She didn't recognize any of the assailants but it was a bloody affair. She could hear the men yelling and the bullets firing, as she hid with Mrs. Grimshaw, Jack and the girls in Hosea's room. Hosea and Mrs. Grimshaw both bared arms in case the men should fail and the O'Driscolls make their way through the doors. But they triumphed, if one could call it that.  
Upon emerging, everyone, safe poor Kieran, was alive. Dozens of bodies lay strewn about the camp.. The men, though exhausted, carried away the corpses, tossing them into the swamp.  
Was this their life?  
The days passed, with Hosea and Arthur bearing a heavy weight everyday. She overheard John and Abigail discuss leaving the gang. Annabel thought it was a silly thing to whisper about. Who would stop them from leaving a dangerous environment for their family? To that, was there ever a point which they would all go their separate ways?  
One evening in particular Annabel ascending the stairs to look for Arthur. She appeared in his door way to find him laying on his cot, arm slung over his eyes, journal on his stomach. The floorboard creaked beneath her, tipping him off to her presence.  
"Hello Miss," he said, sitting himself up with a groan.  
He was still in pain from the trolley accident, even though it was days ago now. It was a story Annabel knew little of. She smiled and let herself in, sitting against a pile of ammo boxes stacked against the wall.  
"What can I do for you?" He asked.  
His shirt tightened around his broad shoulders, as he rolled his neck.  
"I just wanted to visit. I haven't seen you in a while and...Things have felt off..."  
Arthur was not surprised to find that she sought him and wanted nothing. She'd been like that from the beginning. He scooped his hat up off the ground and placed it on his head.  
"Yeah well... been a busy couple weeks. That's all."  
His handsome eyes were now heavy, his brow bore a weary expression. The sharp rhythm from his temple to his brow, now bore a small gash that caught her eye.  
"I don't know... Dutch... he been acting in ways and talking in ways I just don't understand." He sighed.  
Her ears perked at the notion of him confiding in her.  
"Probably the stress of it all but still... Gah, Kieran. He was a good kid. Just like Sean. Wished I'd, well I don't know."  
He really felt responsible for everyone on the camp. She presumed this is what Dutch and Hosea felt too. What a burden.  
"Anyway. I gotta get changed, we're heading out for a job." Arthur stood up as if to see Annabel out, causing Annabel's gaze to be follow him upwards.  
"You're leaving?" She asked.  
"Yeah but I ain't forgot about our trip. When I get back, we'll go."  
But he didn't come back. Abigail rode in from St Denis, and frantically poured forth the story of what she saw. The bank robbery turned. The distraction had failed, Hosea was dead. The gang was hit hard by the news, but it was to get worse.  
John, Lenny, Arthur, Micah, Bill, Javier and Dutch had disappeared. They would likely return soon but as Abigail told them of the sheer number of officers she saw combing the streets of in Saint Denis, they all understood they couldn't wait for them. They had to leave now.  
It happened in a blur. It happened chaotically and yet, in slow motion. From Mrs. Grimshaw directing the packing to Mrs. Adler largely taking lead. It was her clever idea to leave a cryptic note for the men to read should they return.  
Nervously, they trudged through the dark swamp, Sadie taking the gun point with Charles. Thick fog enshrouded the swamp. They felt hidden there.  
The swamp shanty became their new hideout. It wasn't beautiful or friendly like the other locations. Charles would leave camp to inspect the surroundings daily. He was a skilled tracker and good at keeping hidden. It was days before he could first report that the law hadn't been seen close to camp. It wasn't that they had stopped looking, per se, but they moved their search elsewhere.  
Three weeks had passed. The remaining gang were exhausted. They had food, but it wasn't much. They couldn't risk travelling too far to hunt game so they ate much of what they could hunt in the marsh. The best was fish and boar, the worst was snakes and rodents.  
It was a rainy morning when Javier turned up. He was exhausted and physically beaten. He told them about the boat crash, about Lenny, about Guarma and the torture he endured there. He said they all split up at the docks, they had no choice.  
"Arthur, look Arthur's here!" Pearson exclaimed, and Abigail greeted him outside.  
She ushered him inside, where the rest of the gang was hiding from the rain. He greeted them all, Tilly, Uncle, Charles. He greeted Annabel too, with a pat on the shoulder.  
Her gorge rose and her emotions spun. She had thought of him constantly since they left Shady Belle.  
He looked rough. His face was sun burnt and his eyes were sunken. There was a marketed change in all aspects of him. Physical and emotion, he had returned a changed man.  
"They got John!" Abigail cried, wasting no time.  
"He ain't hung yet?" Arthur said, obviously aware that he had been taken away.  
Mrs. Adler filled him in as Pearson brought him food. They told him everything. Where John was, what the current state was with the law. Arthur listened to all of it. He promised Abigail he would get John back somehow. But for now, he needed to rest. Annabel felt relief having Arthur back, and she thought the rest of the gang did too.  
It was late at night when Dutch burst through the door. The gang rejoice at his presence, and again, they updated him on what had happened. Abigail immediately told Dutch about John. They talked over each other a bit, Dutch trying to absorb everything he had been told. The door flew open once again, and Bill barged through. He was worked up.  
"Well here you is!" Bill said, angrily "Well I asked everyone I could find, and eventually someone knew, said you fools were out here!"  
"You did what?" Charles was about to start, before Bill shouted at Sadie.  
As the men began to argue, voice called from outside the cabin.  
"This is Agent Milton with the Pinkerton Detective Agency. On behalf of Cornwall Kerosene and Tar..."  
Dutch and Arthur looked at each other, tensely. Arthur planted himself near the door.  
No one moved, everyone remained quiet.  
Suddenly, gunshots flew through the small cabin, penetrating the rotten wood boards. Everyone took cover. Sadie beckoned for Arthur to followed her. Milton's voice could barely be heard over the gunfire, as he sent all the fire firepower at the cabin.  
It seemed to last forever.  
"And I shall hunt you to the ends of earth and until the end of time..." Milton's voice could be heard.  
Annabel detected weariness on Charles face. It was something bordering hopelessness, and she felt it too. She thought of all the people here who would lose their lives. And all those who already had. What a tremendous weight it must be.  
Suddenly the gun fire picked up again, stronger than before. She covered her head. It took a moment to realize it was no longer coming through the cabin.  
"Kill that bastard!" Milton yelled from outside.  
A terrifically loud barrage of bullets fired outside the cabin. The gun fire was rapid and horribly destructive sounding. Charles took the opportunity to fire out the window.  
Suddenly, it all stopped.  
Dutch was the first to leave the cabin. Arthur could be seen resting against a wagon with a large machine gun attached to it. He looked so tired still. Annabel was far behind in the crowd, holding Jack's hand.  
Again, she heard the words "pack up".  
The last month had been a whirlwind.  
She missed Arthur and was bewildered by his physical appearance. He was tired and wearing himself down.  
She found Arthur one morning when he passed her by sight unseen to go see Dutch. She could hear them arguing, which was a rare sight. Arthur rarely raised his voice against Dutch.  
"Arthur," she called to him as he was about to storm out of camp.  
"What, Miss?" he said, coldly.  
His eyes were sunken and red, begging for rest.  
She couldn't talk to him like this, his mind was elsewhere. She settled for asking him to return to see her later. He nodded and promptly left to fetch Charles.  
He didn't return later, or else not before they moved yet again. They travelled even farther than before this time. The crew was not the same. Karen hadn't been the same since Sean died. Molly had been missing for some time. It was an empty and lonely feeling, even when they were all together. She wondered if this was the type of thing they'd experienced before. Something in Arthur's eyes told her no.  
The new encampment they set up was disturbing. Charles and Javier attempted to remove the gory artifacts that lay strewn about by stuffing them in the back of the cave, but to no avail. Blood stained the dirt and the derelict hideout reeked of death.  
Arthur rode in shortly after they unpacked. Among a few things he tended to in Annesburg, he had just returned a young girl to his mother. The girl had put him in mind of Annabel, and reminded him to make time for her sooner than later.  
Annabel was chopping food when she heard Molly's voice, drunken and slurred as she was lead back to camp by Uncle.  
"Did you miss me Dutch!?" She yelled.  
And continued to yell over Uncle who explained he found her drunk in Saint Denis. Dutch and her immediately returned to bickering, Arthur taking a healthy step back. The gang couldn't help but gather around the spectacle, Annabel and Mrs. Grimshaw watching from behind the butcher table. She continued to spew nonsense until finally, she went too far.  
"I told them!" She blurted, "Yeah I told them, and I'd tell them again!"  
The colour drained from Dutch's face.  
"I'm sorry? You told who what?" He spat.  
"Oh now I've got God's ear!" Molly slurred in her accent.  
She continued to rattle of the names of the people she told and what she told them about.  
Dutch pointed his gun at her.  
"You, what?" he spat again, in disbelief.  
"She's crazy..." Arthur mumbled, urging Dutch to put his gun down.  
Mrs. Grimshaw's eyes narrowed at this point and she disappeared from sight for a moment.  
"You betrayed me!?" Dutch questioned. A  
Arthur tried to talk Dutch down, though Annabel couldn't hear what exactly was said. She slowly approached to join the gang, feeling the tension as she joined beside them.  
"You know the rules!" Dutch said looking back at Arthur.  
Molly would not be silenced. She unravelled about how much she loved Dutch, and taunted him to shoot her. Dutch composed himself once to address Molly yet before he could, the echo of a single shotgun blast quieted the air.  
Mrs. Grimshaw clutched the smoking barrel of a shotgun. Molly collapsed to the ground.  
"She knew the rules Arthur! What is wrong with you!" Mrs. Grimshaw spat cruelly.  
There was unnerving silence as they stood around Molly's silenced corpse.  
She demanded everyone get back to work and to burn her body. Annabel felt a large void in her stomach. Mrs. Grimshaw's behaviour surprised her. Dutch's behaviour surprised her. Everyone was coming down.  
She worked in a state of disarray, lost in thought like everyone else around her. She heard Karen confront Mrs. Grimshaw's actions in a yelling match which everyone at camp likely listened in on. Susan had overreacted and as a result, caused more tension to ripple through the camp.  
Annabel spotted Arthur head off a path down to the stream and decided to try and join him.  
She caught sight of him sitting on a rock by the shore, keeled over, coughing hard. He spat to the side as if marking the end of his coughing fit. Annabel felt a wave of dread wash over her. It made her sick to her stomach like nothing she had ever experienced before. He looked unwell.  
He spotted her and wiped his mouth. Surely, those were his eyes, but they didn't look anything like she remembered. They were blood shot and sunken. He looked like he hadn't slept and his skin seemed stressed and brittle.  
"Miss Annabel." he tried, clearing his throat. "You really shouldn't be here".  
She knew the woods were dangerous but was not sure that's what he meant.  
"Can I sit with you?"  
"Of course." He said with a raspy voice.  
"Are you ok?" She asked meekly.  
"I'm fine. It's that water from Guarma. Can't get it out." He said dismissively.  
Guarma was weeks ago now.  
"I can't believe Mrs. Grimshaw..."  
"I know."  
"Is that how it goes?"  
"No." he said, definitively. "Susan has killed in her day, but no. It doesn't go like that."  
"What happens now?"  
Arthur shook his head helplessly. There was too much he couldn't tell her, or explain to her. There were layers of issues. All he could do was look at her and enjoy her peaceful presence. It was gentle and accepting. She was happy to just spend time with him.  
"We'll see." He finally said.  
Arthur had a few ideas. And they would be unravelling shortly.  
"You still want to go to Saint Denis?" He asked to Annabel's surprise.  
"Well... Is that a safe idea?"  
"Sure." He said in that way he did that always made her smile. "I can make it work."  
"Then yes, of course I do."  
"Alright. I have a few things I gotta do. I told Sadie I'd meet her, we're going to try to get John out. Don't mention that to anyone just yet. Then when he's back, I'm sure I can sneak away and take you to see the wonders of civilization."  
Annabel smiled.  
"Get on back to camp. You know its dangerous here." He sent her away.  
Arthur had a meeting with Sadie and he didn't want to keep her waiting.


	10. The Unraveling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not the end of the story, just in case it seems like it is! We're kinda just getting started really.

Chapter 10: The Unravelling  
It was two days later when Arthur returned with John and Sadie. Annabel observed that Dutch had reservations about John's return. She also noticed that Arthur had prepared for Dutch's argumentative greeting. Abigail stole John away, as Dutch took his leave, questioning Arthur's loyalty.  
A notion she could tell disappointed Arthur.  
Arthur stood in the centre of deserted camp for a moment. He shook his head, scratching his scruff. He stretched his neck, side to side, which sent him into a small bout of coughing. He caught his breath and looked to Annabel. She looked down instantly, pretending she didn't see.  
"C'mon. Let's go for that ride." He said.  
Annabel was worried that he might be too weak for the ride. In need of medicine and rest, he would be better off to lay down than take her sight seeing. Then again, he would be better off to take her sight seeing that to ride off wherever he went when he left.  
Maybe, she thought to herself, she could get him to see a doctor. He hadn't stopped since returning from Guarma and it was clearly taking its toll.  
"It can wait Arthur, if you..."  
"No, lets go now. It'll be a good ride."  
No one seemed to notice, or care as they left the camp. He helped her up on his horse and rode off. She wrapped her arms around him, shocked by how thin he felt. She brushed it off as her imagination, but she had a bad feeling about this trip. It was a stark contrast to how she usually felt about trips with Arthur. The scenery passed but instead of bright and vibrant, it was sickly and dark.  
They arrived in Saint Denis.  
The industrialist look left a lot to be desired, but as they rode on, the city flourished. It was dusk and the lights were just coming alive throughout the city. There were theatres, there were people playing music. Arthur helped her off the horse so they could walk around.  
"It sure is different..." Annabel said, looking up at the tall buildings.  
"Sure is. Is it what you expected?"  
"Not really." She said as they approached a crowded market square. "Tilly made it sound beautiful. I mean, the lights dress it up but it looks dirty somehow, bleak."  
Arthur chuckled. He agreed with her. Annabel held tightly to his arm, so the crowd couldn't separate them.  
Arthur ignored it. He knew now there was no sense in dwelling on things like this. They walked through the market square to a quieter side of the city.  
She wanted to tell Arthur that she would always be with him. She'd follow him anywhere. She loved him. Somehow the words didn't come even though the time seemed right.  
A cough started deep in Arthur's chest.  
"Excuse me" he said, holding a hand up to her and pulling away. Annabel watched him disappear down an alley, his coughing gruesomely intensifying. She held her breath for him.  
She called out to him but received no response. Cautiously she crept forward to inspect the situation. She could hear the scuffing sound of his boots before he emerge from the black alley. His fingers dug into the brick wall as his laboured to take in a full breath of air. She watched him quietly, her eyes drawn to the black and purple skin under his eyes. What could have done this to him?  
She visualized what sort of place Guarma might be like, for it to spit men out in this favour.  
"Let's go to a doctor, Arthur." She said, taking his arm without hesitation. "They can help you!"  
"Sure, in a minute. Let's just walk for a bit." He said, his voice hoarse and strained.  
The smallest glimmer of hope ignited within her.  
They were in a nicer area towards the end of town. An ornate blue parlour stood with beautiful flowers all around it. She wondered momentarily what sort of people frequented that stunning building. What their lives must be like. Arthur cleared his throat. A sound which brought Annabel back into his reality.  
"Arthur..."  
"Its fine." He said again, but his voice was nearly unrecognizable. "Annabel look..."  
He looked down, trying to find the right words. It had been so hard, losing Hosea and watching Dutch spiral.  
Annabel felt tears well in her eyes, but she didn't know why.  
"You ain't coming back with me." Arthur said.  
She looked at him, wide eyed in bewilderment, as she had done so many times before.  
"This thing is over. And you, and whoever else I can get out of here, ain't going down with it."  
"No, Arthur, I want to stay with you. I- I'm fine, I don't need-"  
"You have a chance girl, and it ain't here. It certainly ain't with me." He said gently.  
Her heart broke.  
"Now, I've made arrangements for you, safe passage to Annesburg." he grabbed her arm and walked her down the road to a bit.  
She saw a carriage with a driver waiting.  
A driver waiting at this time of night.  
He really was going to send her away. She yanked her arm back.  
He effortlessly grabbed it back again and continued to drag her.  
"Its a Mining town North of here. When you get there-"  
"No, Arthur, I don't want to go, I want to stay with you!" she begged.  
"No chance, darling, it ain't happening. Now when you get there, I have someone waiting for you. Now, you know him and I-"  
"Arthur!" She cried as he opened the carriage door. Tears poured from her eyes.  
"I don't want to go, I don't care what happens to me Arthur, I want to stay with you! I can help you!"  
The carriage driver tried desperately not to look at the disturbance. Arthur had warned him there may be a scene.  
His heart ached. There had been many goodbyes lately. When he was a child, he often wondered how he might die. He thought for certain, it would be at the hands of a fatal gunshot, and it comforted him somehow to accept that.  
"Arthur... you're sick. I can see that much! Please. Let me help you!"  
"Yeah... I know." Arthur loosened his grip on her arm. "I ain't going to be around much longer, Miss, that much is for sure."  
He suppressed a cough.  
Annabel all but ignored his confession.  
"I'll stay with you. I know there is something we can do-"  
"There ain't. There ain't no cure for this sickness and that's fine-"  
"Its not fine!" She screamed.  
"—what isn't fine, is you hanging around here and getting yourself killed for a bunch...! Gah, I don't know what we are anymore." He sighed.  
His shoulders dropped. He picked up where he left off.  
"Now when you get there, Mr. Mason, you remember Albert Mason? He'll be waiting there for you. I've arranged for him to help you get on your feet for a bit. I trust him, and I know you do too."  
He forced her into the carriage.  
He stood on the step of the carriage and handed the driver a wad of cash. Annabel's eyes darted wildly, she had to think of something. She heard Arthur tell the driver that his contact would be waiting in Annesburg for him with more money, a good amount of money, upon delivery. He was under no circumstances to stop, no matter what she said. Arthur had thought of everything. He hung in the door way of the carriage again facing Annabel.  
"Arthur, you don't understand, I lo-"  
"No! Now listen, take this. It's for you." He opened her hand and stuck a wad of cash in it before closing her hand over it.  
"And take this."  
He handed her a pistol.  
"You're going to get yourself a life that you haven't had a chance to dream of yet, you understand?"  
"I'm going to shoot myself with this gun, Arthur, is what I'm going to do."  
He chuckled a bit.  
"Well, don't do that. For me. I'm asking you to not do that, for me."  
Her heart felt empty as the reality settled in. There was no way out of this parting. The carriage even had bars over the windows.  
She reached out and touched his face. Arthur's eyes cast down. He didn't imagine anyone holding on to him like this, it was inexplicable and painful.  
"Please... Arthur... please." She begged from the bottom of her heart.  
"You can do this." Arthur said, before he pulled away.  
He closed the carriage door even though Annabel lunged for, and snapped the lock on the other side.  
"Move!" He said to the carriage driver who tore off. Annabel cried, she bawled her eyes out, she screamed and she kicked, she begged him to turn back, she'd do anything. She'd do anything.


	11. The Rise and Fall (Part II)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors note: I re-watched the latter part of the game from about the point the gang gets to Beaver Hollow and it looked like about 15 days of MAIN story passed between then and the end of the game. That’s not accounting for stranger missions, or wandering around. So to that, this chapter starts a month, plus the two weeks referenced within, after Arthur had sent Annabel away. Also note, it was hard to watch those cut scenes!!

Part II

_Face me to the west so I can watch the setting sun and remember all the fine times we had that way._

'Ugh... Leave me. Leave my body alone. Let me die first.'  
Rays of dull light crept under his eyelids.  
Dead silence. Dead Nothing. Dead.  
Pain, still, wrenching his body, even still.  
Dead void.  
Pale light creeps in, the breath of the world creeps in, thunderous, like rushing water.  
'Let me die first.'  
Then back to silence. Back to the void.  
Arthur became aware, once again, of his wheezing lungs. They fought to take in air, and the reluctantly pushed out what little they had attained. Why had he not died yet. He felt like the had been laying here for hours, waiting to die.  
'Dutch. I gave you all I had.'  
Back to the Void.  
Yet again, Arthur could hear his own breathing. Did he hear voices? The air was so loud, he couldn't tell.  
Do dead folk hear? He wondered.  
Enough of this. If he wasn't going to die, then he would use his last bit of life to roll himself off the cliff. The pain was intolerable, his body was done fighting. He had no more left.  
Surrounded by blackness and the sound of his lungs, he feebly lifted his arm, while the rest of his body lie dormant.  
Too much exertion. Back to the Void.  
But voices, yes, he was sure he heard them.  
Suddenly, from the blackest void, his lungs clenched tortuously. He heard his own voice spew in agony. The pain goring his body was enough to launch him onto his side. He reached for the cliff.  
How far was it? It took everything to open his eyes.  
Blurry. Patches of warm light filled his view. Patches of flickering warm light and shadows. Where was he?  
Voices.  
Then Void.  
Arthur rose from the void to another excruciating coughing fit. It caused his vision to flash, and left his body entirely decimated.  
"Eas...Arth..." He knew he heard a voice that time, he was sure he heard his name. The voice continued yet he couldn't make it out.  
Arthur then lost his hearing to the void. But he felt hands now. He felt hands on him.  
No one could tell him this isn't what dying felt like. But it really didn't seem like he was successfully crossing over.  
He could smell something. Something sweet.  
Void.  
"It's Over." Dutch's voice rang.  
Arthur shot up. His vision focused in and out, the blood rushing around in his head. He became aware of his breathing, abrasive, has it had been for weeks now.  
The flap of the tent pulled away and a small, instantly recognizable silhouette crouched to enter the tent.  
Annabel froze as she met eyes with Arthur. After all this time, he was finally awake. A gasp escaped her lips as she rushed to his side, placing the bowl she was carrying on the ground beside her. She sat on her knees beside him.  
"Arthur, it's me." She said tenderly, not hesitating to hold his face. "It's Annabel, can you hear me?"  
She understood the powerless and confused look in his eyes.  
His eyes. They were less red now. His face held on to the bruising he had adorned when she found him that night. But the red inflamed skin had subsided, isolating itself to directly under his eyes, indicating the infection was indeed receding.  
He searched Annabel for answers, but no words came out.  
"Arthur... all you need to know is that you're recovering now." She guided him gently to the ground.  
He coughed slightly. It had been hard to watch the coughing fits over the last two weeks but now it was likely to her he was improving.  
"You... aren't supposed to be here." He rasped, his voice startled her.  
It was nothing like the strong growling drawl she remembered. It was frail, and forced. Weeks of being unused, and weeks still before that of struggling.  
"This is a dream." Arthur decided before closing his eyes.  
"It's not Arthur." She said emphatically.  
But he was gone again.  
She unbuttoned his shirt, revealing his broad chest. It had been evident he had lost weight back in Beaver Hollow, but since they parted ways over a month ago, she discovered he had wasted away further. His shoulders were still wide, and his chest still deep, but not like before.  
Admittedly she had no idea what he looked like under his clothes before but she had wrapped her arms around him enough times to guess. She began applying the topical medicine to his chest. She had done this multiple times a day for two weeks. Topicals alone weren't saving him, of course.  
The smell was strong but she had come to love it as she associated it with progress of his recovery.  
She slipped her hand underneath him to apply the remedy to his back, her hands slid along his ribs and followed them around. He groaned. She lay the empty bowl beside her again.  
Then, as she did everyday, she leaned over him, brushing his hair from his forehead, resting her cheek on his head.  
The moon was bright on the mountain top. She gasped a deep emotional breath, holding tears back as she wiped her forehead with her arm. Her eyes welled as she paused in thought. Had she done it?  
Rains Fall approached her with inquiring eyes.  
"He was awake. He spoke to me, he saw me." She said still in disbelief.  
His eyebrows rose in surprise.  
"Then the real challenge begins."  
It was one impossible task to repair his body, Rains Falls had warned Annabel weeks ago, but it would be another to repair his mind.  
Annabel travelled through the forestry close to the reservation in search of more medicine. The moon was high and her head swam in dreams of what could come, good and bad.  
A sudden outbreak of commotion at the camp caused her to sprint back.  
She hunted the reservation to locate the sound of the disruption before stumbling upon it.  
Arthur. Arthur, locking a tribesman in a threatening choke hold while Rains Fall and three other able bodied tribesmen cornered him.  
"Arthur!" Annabel gently urged the tribesmen to lower their knives, as she squeezed past them to gain access to Arthur.  
She couldn't believe he was standing so soon.  
Arthur squeezed his eyes tight, shaking his head to make sense of this. Shaking off his fever dream.  
At that moment, the captive felt a slip in Arthur's grip and didn't waste the chance. He threw his head back into Arthur. Blood spewed from Arthur's nose and he lost his grip on the captive, stumbling backwards.  
She ran to him.  
"It's ok Arthur, you're safe here!" She knelt beside him, grabbing his shoulders. "Don't you recognize it here?"  
Arthur looked around, wiping the blood from his lip. He shook his head no. He recognized her, but not this place. He clenched his eyes again in frustration, unable to make out where he was or what had brought him there.  
Annabel signalled to one of the men to help her. He kindly obliged despite Arthur's behaviour, throwing Arthur's arm over his shoulder and walking him with Annabel to the tent.  
"No, no" Arthur fought in vain. "I gotta find Dutch... I gotta ... do... something. Gotta..."  
"No Arthur, listen to my voice." Annabel placed her hands gently on his distressed face.  
The blood filled the crease of his lips.  
"You don't have anywhere to go but here. There is nothing you need to know, there's no one you need to save."  
Arthur slumped a bit in defeat, as they dragged him to the tent.  
"It must be the coma?" She wondered to Rains Fall. "Maybe it will take time for him to regain clarity."  
Is that whats going on? Arthur listened in. He was in a coma and he's confused now? If that was so, how much of what he remembers is real? Did she say Rains Fall? As in the Wapiti Chief?  
With a moderate amount of pain, Arthur laid back in his tent. Annabel closed the tent so they were alone, assuring the tribesmen that she was ok by herself.  
He could see her now with more clarity. She knelt beside him, her hair picking up the gentle orange hue of the small fire in the tent. Her skin was porcelain, it felt like forever since he'd seen it. Her skinny arms reaching for his hand.  
"What's happening?" He asked despairingly.  
"I have answers for you Arthur, I promise, but you need to be stronger." She searched his face. "Tomorrow, you need to start walking and eating. Then we can talk."  
She dabbed his lip with a wet cloth, but he turned his face.  
He fell to a restless sleep quickly and murmured through his dreams most of the night.  
He awoke to the sound of birds. He expected to wake up, leave the tent and find his horse there, waiting for him. It would be time to head back to camp after all, the gang was probably wondering where he was by now.  
"Good morning, Mr. Morgan." A familiar voice greeted him.  
Arthur's vision came into focus and he recognized Rains Fall. Had he fallen asleep at the reservation and the events on the mountain were a dream? If so, where was Dutch?  
He sat up slowly, rubbing his temples. He looked down at his open shirt, quizzically touching the oily substance on his chest.  
"I've been instructed to have you drink this." He said as he poured hot water over mixture and handed Arthur a wooden cup.  
"I strongly suggest you follow those instructions." He smiled gently.  
Ever confused, Arthur took the cup.  
"You have a lot of questions, I know. Do you remember me?"  
"Of course. You're Rains Fall."  
"That's right."  
"Your son... Eagle Flies, he was a brave fighter but..."  
"He died, yes. You helped bury him."  
"I remember."  
"What else do you remember? Drink."  
Arthur drank from the cup. The water went down his dry throat like bricks of coal. He struggled to swallow.  
"I remember..."  
Arthur was thrown back to the mountain. To Dutch's voice.  
'It is over now. Arthur.' The words panged his heart.  
John. Abigail. Had they escaped or was it a fabricated dream?  
'You ran away.' Arthur remembered accusing Dutch.  
He hung his head.  
"I don't know what I remember." He lied.  
"It will come to you. I promise." He said, patting Arthur's shoulder.  
"I gotta piss so bad." Arthur chuckled. Rains Fall laughed.  
Annabel was sat by the fire with a few other women, grinding plants when Rains Fall approached. She knew instantly it meant Arthur was awake and she took off.  
She found him sitting on a tree stump. She couldn't believe her eyes to find him sitting there. Just alive, like anyone else. She ran over to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. His hair smelt like the smoke from the fire he had spent weeks in the tent with. She could smell the medicine off of him.  
"I can't believe this..." She whispered.  
She wanted to say he was cured, she wanted to say they had endeavoured and won and that now they could have a second chance. But she resisted. She resisted kissing him. She resisted telling him everything she always wanted to say.  
He opened his mouth but couldn't think of where to even begin.  
"Come Arthur, let's walk."  
She got up and reached her hand out to him. He took it but he didn't know why. He was following her lead, she was the only thing that felt real to him.  
He didn't trust his sight, his hearing.  
He didn't trust that his legs wouldn't give out. Every step was an act of faith.  
He surely didn't trust his memories. How could all that have happened.  
Annabel wrapped her arm around him as a means of support. His arm felt noticeably thinner compared to when they first met.  
They slowly walked off the reservation until they found a flowing creek. Arthur recognized the place. It wasn't too far from here that he rode with Rains Fall but he couldn't say how long ago.  
"How long has it been?" Arthur asked.  
Annabel didn't say anything.  
Rains Falls had explained to her a lot of things about Arthur that she didn't know. He recounted various things that he had learned and observed about Arthur during their short relationship. He predicted she would have a difficult time acclimating him to life outside the gang. A man without a purpose. He predicted he would have a difficult time coming to terms with his recovery. Not only was he ready for death, and very much expecting it, but on numerous occasions he hinted at how undeserving he was. Undeserving of thanks and appreciation. Undeserving of being held in any regard higher than an outlaw. Undeserving of a second chance.  
"Here. You need to drink some water." Annabel ignored his question and helped him sit by the running creek.  
She filled a canteen that hung over her shoulder and offered it to Arthur.  
He refused. He knew he was contagious. He cupped his hands and drank from the stream. Annabel sat back, kicking her legs out in front of her and took a drink from the canteen, studying him.  
Arthur splashed the water on his face and neck, raking his hair back. It had grown a little more than usual in the time he was out. He was surprised he didn't cough, but he cleared his throat out of habit.  
"You've been here two weeks." She said.  
"Here, on the reservation? How is that possible?"  
"We brought you here. We found you on the mountain." Annabel's face grew doleful, as she recalled that day.  
"Whose we?"  
"Charles and me." She responded simply.  
She slipped away momentarily, she was reliving the day in her mind.  
She remembered it very clearly. She remembered riding up to Wapiti on her own. She found Charles.  
"We parted ways a few days ago." Charles had told her, confused at her sudden appearance. Charles had further explained that he was staying back to take care of the tribe, and that Arthur had other business to attend to. Annabel poured everything to Charles, everything she had done in the month since Arthur sent her away, everything she needed to do now. But first she needed to find him.  
"Annabel... Arthur has Tuberculosis, he told me. He won't make it much longer". Charles said with compassion, even pity.  
"I know!" She blurted, "That's why I need to find him now! Look, I have everything here!" Her voice trembled as she fumbled opened her bag to show Charles. It felt like a dream where she was screaming at the top of her lungs but no one could hear her. Charles wasn't opposed to helping Annabel, but he knew what drove her to search for Arthur. She loved him, it was obvious to everyone but Arthur. He wasn't sure it was right to let Annabel see him in the state he was in, or worse come across his dead body.  
It was Rains Fall who convinced Charles to take her.  
Charles left with Annabel that night. It didn't take long for him to catch on to some tracks. There had been a lot of horses coming through and it looked like they rode up the cliff. They grew quiet when the fell upon the body of Arthur's horse. It struck Annabel hard. She knelt beside it to stroke its face one last time. She didn't want to think of what this meant for Arthur.  
Charles squatted down beside her. He exhaled and put his hand compassionately on the beasts' neck.  
"... She's still warm." Charles said, standing up again.  
Faster, they made their way up the mountain. The sun was coming up and it was casting shadows on the ground.  
"What?" Annabel urged, impatiently.  
"The footsteps separate here. Someone went down into the woods and someone went..." Charles started tracing back a bit.  
He followed signs of a struggle. Blood had splattered against the rocks.  
"Down here! There was a fight and they fell down here."  
Charles helped Annabel down. The ground showed signs of more blood. Some true yet final struggle.  
"There!" Charles pointed to a body a little ways up. Annabel rushed over, sliding to the ground. Charles approached respectfully behind.  
"I'm sorry, Annabel." He said.  
Arthur lay, eyes partially closed. His face was almost unrecognizable. It was bruised, beaten and sunken. His lips were still.  
She recalled his smirk. His hand as he tipped his hat. His hand as he reached to her. His hand. What had this all been for if she stopped now? She lay her head to his chest to listen.  
"Annabel..." Charles tried.  
He was disturbed to see his friend's state and knew Micah was to blame. The law would have taken his body if they had killed him. Annabel shushed Charles.  
The seconds passed slowly.  
Ba-bump.  
She shot up, that was all she needed to hear.  
"Annabel?" Arthur jolted her out of her head. She looked at him blankly.  
"You still there? You mentioned Charles?"  
She had packed that day away, and suppressed it with other dark memories of her life. She couldn't function in the emotional state those memories left her in while taking care of Arthur. So she repressed that day.  
"Right. Yeah he helped me find you, Arthur. He helped me bring you back here. Rains Fall insisted we stay in his reservation while you recovered. Apparently you did a lot of good for him. He wanted to repay." She smiled gently, but Arthur didn't reciprocate.  
"So what? What's the point in this? In case you hadn't noticed, I'm on borrowed time as it is. What makes you think I want to prolong this?" He said, exhaustion in his voice.  
"You're not sick anymore, Arthur."  
"There's no cure for what I have."  
"How do you feel though Arthur? Take notice!" She said leaning forward to him and grabbing his hand.  
He cast a skeptical eye towards her. Her gaze was as wide and clear as ever. Her hair was hanging over her shoulder, messy from being tossed about by the wind. She wore a tunic that fit her nicely if not for coming up quite short on the thighs, leaving most of her legs exposed down to her bare feet.  
Arthur felt tired. He felt weak and nauseous. He felt out of breath.  
He could breath though, couldn't he? He could breathe with relative ease, at least while sedentary, a luxury he hadn't been afforded for some time before that. He could stand up which was not the case yesterday. He was walking.  
He felt better.  
He looked at her with that realization.  
"What did you do?" he asked almost in a whisper.  
"You do feel better, right?" She exclaimed excitedly.  
"I suppose, for now." He was suspicious still, unwilling to commit to a positive notion.  
"That's good enough for now Arthur." She said confidently.  
There was so much he didn't understand. She was feeding him only bits of information and he could hardly process that.  
"These aren't my clothes..." He said plainly as he looked down at his pants.  
"No, I got rid of them. These are donated from the tribe."  
Arthur grimaced uncomfortably. The clothes themselves were fine, a pair of ranch pants and a collar shirt were pretty standard attire. But the thought of someone changing him, especially if it was Annabel made him cringe.  
"What? Don't worry, the old women here have seen it all, you weren't the first man they've cared for. They even said at least you were quiet!"  
She laughed, enjoying his uncomfortable expression.  
"I guess it's better than you having to do it." Arthur said, honestly.  
"I would have, but they wouldn't let me-"  
Arthur lurched forward suddenly, grasping his stomach. He clumsily rose to his feet and staggered off a bit before keeling over and vomiting. A black liquid projected from his stomach through his mouth. He coughed violently before the second wave caused him to dropped to his knees.  
Panting, he backed away, wiping his mouth with his arm.  
"What the hell is that?!" He exclaimed between breaths.  
Annabel rushed to him, helping him steady himself. He fell into a coughing fit, just like before. It seized him and he couldn't get it to stop. He pushed her away, covering his mouth.  
"Its ok! Focus on breathing like you were never sick!" She tried to help him but it wasn't clear if he was listening.  
Arthur knew he couldn't fight such a fit when it came on, he'd learned that well.  
His coughing fit eventually passed and he sat heaving at the creeks edge. His hands hung weakly off his knees.  
She gently wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead. She had grown comfortable putting her hands on him, not thinking twice even though he was awake.  
"What was that..." He managed.  
"Its medicine for one thing, its leaves for another." She said very casually as she urged him to grab a drink from the creek.  
He did, cupping the water to his mouth, wiping his face.  
"Leaves?"  
"Yeah, they wrapped the medicine in the leaves. Usually they are dandelion leaves, and they have a lot of health properties in them, apparently. They hold in the stomach so you can think of it as feeding you when you couldn't eat."  
Arthur raised another skeptical eyebrow. What was going on.  
"Good news is you can eat again!" She said happily, she noted the weariness in his face after the coughing fit. "Let's go back Arthur, you need to rest."  
They slowly made their way back.  
"So where is Charles?" Arthur asked, as Annabel squeeze her way under his arm to support him.  
It would make him feel like he wasn't loosing his mind if he could take to someone like Charles, help him validate all this.  
She looked up at him, one hand on his chest and one wrapped around his back as they walked slowly. It felt so good to her.  
"That's the thing, Charles left. He went ahead. The Wapiti have to leave, you probably remember something about that, their treaty failed. Charles went ahead to scout a spot for them. He told me to say hi though..."  
Annabel recalled this fondly. She recalled Charles faith in her.  
"We cant go with them, though. Obviously." She said.  
Nothing was obvious to Arthur.  
"And what do we do?" he asked, clearing his throat.  
"We have to go to St. Denis."  
Arthur let out a sardonic chortle.  
"You're kidding..."  
"No. I know it got crazy fo-"  
"I can't go back there, hell I can't go anywhere in West Elizabeth!"  
"I know, it will be tough but-"  
"New Hanover for that matter." He pulled away from Annabel, to her chagrin.  
Arthur's pulse started to race as he recalled all the trouble he was in. All the law he shot down, all the contracted bounty hunters out for him, out for Dutch. Only now he was alone. Death was the only way out for the mess he'd gotten himself into, and now that was gone too.  
"I know, but we have to. If we-"  
"Whats this WE you keep referring to Annabel? Huh? When did this all happen?" Arthur spat angrily.  
The scar on the bridge of his nose was always more pronounced when he was angry. She braced herself for this though, she knew it may happen. She dug her nails into her palms.  
"That's not what I meant. It's just really important that we go to Saint Denis before anything else."  
"You have no idea what went down back there Annabel! You should have stayed where I put you!"  
Arthur ended it at that and walked away, leaving her behind.  
She froze in his wake, and let him leave.  
It was early evening and Annabel sat reflecting on her conversation with Arthur. She sat mixing medicine. She spent hours a day doing this and it always caused her mind to wander.  
She braced herself to go see Arthur again, prepared to face his ire. She collected the medicine and gathered two bowls of food. She found he was sitting against a tree, his back to the reservation, looking out over the ravine.  
She composed herself.  
Taking a seat beside him, she placed the bowls down on the ground.  
"You have to eat..." She said, timidly.  
He didn't respond. His eyes were far away. The light played on the planes of his face, the strong angles formed by his cheekbones, his jaw, his eyes. His eyes that never looked her way.  
Moments passed before she spoke again.  
"Rains Fall told me about what happens when a spirit is ready for death. He said that death brings with it a release of all the horrible and unfair things that never got resolved in life. It's a way to let it go because it can't hurt you anymore... I know it must be hard Arthur, to face everything that happened... Everyone that died, and all that is gone..."  
Arthur clenched his eyes.  
"There is a reason you're still here, Arthur, just think of that." She handed him a bowl of food.  
He sighed heavily. He was starving, so he took the food and nodded thankfully to her.  
"Ah, first, here take this please!" She said, scooping past from the stone bowl she used for grinding, and dropping it on his plate.  
"Thank you." He said, unimpressed, looking down at the blob of paste.  
"It's just bitter, it won't taste too bad."  
Arthur popped the paste down his throat in one go, forcing a swallow.  
"You make this?" he gagged.  
Her smile grew at his reaction.  
"Of course. They taught me."  
"What's in it?"  
"Lots of thing. Lots of different plants that target micro-organisms. Like the ones in your lungs. They've been boiled, extracted, ground, you name it."  
"...What?"  
"There are lots of plants that have a really good antimicrobial potential in their compounds, but the difficulty is in synthesizing their effects. So that's why if you eat ginseng, it might cure stomach ailments, but it wont do much against a lung infection, as an example."  
"What... are you talking about? How do you know this?" Arthur felt like he might be dreaming again.  
"That's another story Arthur. For now, just know that we need to continue to give you medicine for the time being to make sure that no new bacteria starts to grow. Eat! Its good!"  
They ate in silence. Arthur had many more questions, but he was exhausted after they ate. Annabel took him back to the tent. Despite his outburst towards her, she waited with him until he fell asleep. He dreamt hard. He dreamt of Eagle Flies, and recalled the night he died. Another instance among the many where Arthur should have died and somehow did not. He remembered Dutch's footsteps as he walked away. He could see the anxiety in Hosea's eyes as he implored "I just want folk safe Dutch", and would say he hadn't much time left.  
Dutch's footsteps echoed.  
Arthur woke up. He was in a cold sweat. It startled him to see an elderly woman beside him, a stark contrast to Annabel. He grumbled hello as he held his head. She stuck medicine in his field of view and he took it, without questions, thanking her.  
Arthur let himself be pulled and tugged about as the lady washed his neck roughly. He rather do it himself but having just woken up, he felt frankly bombarded. Her bony fingers poked and prodded for lack of a common language. She didn't have Annabel's bed side manner, he thought, as the elderly lady yanked Arthur's arm up, scrubbing him down.  
She shooed him out of the tent, hurriedly. Arthur caught her smiling and realized she was enjoying pushing him around. She pointed for him to sit on a stool. She went about trimming his hair for him while he used water and a blade to trim his beard. He nicked himself once or twice but it felt good to have his beard paired down to scruff. He felt more like himself.  
The lady handed him clothes and boots and sent him away to change.  
Arthur slept in and out over the span of the day. He found himself helpless against his bouts of fatigue. It was late evening when the elderly woman woke him up for dinner, poking him with her bony fingers.  
"I'm up, I'm up." He said.  
He ate with a small group of tribesmen. If he thought hard enough, he was sure he recognized some of them. They ate a simple but full meal of greens, corns and game.  
"You look well." One of them said in a heavy native accent.  
Arthur nodded in thanks. He recognized his wife, who urged forth a young child of maybe 6 years old and said something to her husband.  
"She wants to thank you. This is our son. You may remember you brought us medicine not too long ago when you helped Mr. Monroe. Our child is here now because of your sacrifice."  
Arthur looked at the family and to the child. The wagon incident seemed like a life time ago. He recalled robbing it and stealing the antibiotics for Captain Monroe. He recalled taking Monroe to a train station and sending him off.  
"My pleasure." He said quietly.  
The child put him in mind of Issac. He now seemed two life times ago.  
After supper he stole away to be alone. The sun had set but it was a bright and clear night. He heard Annabel approach and he could picture her holding medicine for him.  
"Hello Miss." He said.  
His greeting sent her back in time, to before he was sick.  
She noticed his change of clothes suited him a bit better. He had shaved his beard down, and trimmed his hair a bit. The moonlight desaturated the red tones still flush on his face and around his eyes. He looked like he did before. Her heart fluttered.  
"For you." She said handing him some herbal concoction.  
"Better be the good stuff." He said gruffly joked, taking it from her hand.  
A smiled spread across her lips.  
"You look... like you're feeling better."  
"I feel better, yes." Arthur refused to use concrete words.  
He wasn't better, but he felt better.  
"Where were you at today? Couldn't find you."  
She sat cross-legged, her back to the beautiful vista and her eyes to him.  
"They have to leave soon and so do we. Lot's of packing to be done."  
Arthur was quiet.  
"Once we're out of Saint Denis, we can-"  
"What is this... Annabel, there is no way I can go back there, even if I wanted to. And ain't no way I want to." He said, trying to conceal his rising temper.  
He couldn't protect her out there, not anymore.  
"There's... no choice, we have to." She tried desperately to show resolve.  
"Why's that?"  
"We have to go to Saint Denis and make two stops. One, at the doctor who diagnosed you, and two, to another doctor, a personal friend. If they both clear you, then we can-"  
"I don't need doctor to tell me what I already know. There is no way this is cured. Besides, what's it matter if I know or not?"  
"Because you'll live your life differently if you think you're sick. You won't do things, you won't get up."  
Somehow he understood what she was trying to say. He was driven before to close the book, to tie the ends for anyone he could. Now there was no one to care for and he lost all he knew.  
He still felt like he was waiting to die.  
"I know you're afraid, and I don't-"  
"I ain't just afraid Annabel. There's more to it then that, have you actually thought about this?" he spat cruelly.  
"Oh, of course I-"  
"How we gonna get there? It's real far on foot. Even on horse, which we don't have. And Roanoke is hostile land, you saw that yourself. I have no weapons. I ain't got nothing. And guess what lady, even if I did, I would wager well that I couldn't defend us if there was an attack."  
She swallowed hard at his patronizing tone. It was hard for her to hold her stance. She knew where his anger came from, but it dismantled her all the same.  
"I ain't the man I was before, I can feel it. I can't protect you out there. Not to mentioned, we pass through Van Horne? Bah... it's a fool's errand. The Bayou? Nah. Just to walk into the belly of the beast? If we've been here two weeks, then I can tell you for goddamn sure that the heat ain't off yet! We were running for months from Blackwater and it still came to this!"  
Silence hung for a moment, as she processed his words.  
"They probably won't be looking for you Arthur. They think you're dead." She said after a pause.  
"How's that?"  
"Charles made a tombstone for you before he left. Or he said he would. He said that he wouldn't tell anyone you could be alive, even if he crossed paths with the others. He'd never say there was a chance you made it."  
Arthur stared quietly. He felt more like a ghost now than ever before. At the same time, there was some relief in that thought.  
"No. Still no." He stood up.  
"Why?" She cried, springing to her feet.  
"Because besides the law there are still many things I can't deal with anymore, and one of them is you. I don't know how you got here from Annesburg. I have no clue how a girl who couldn't even ride a horse, or shoot a gun, made her way past some of the most dangerous country I've ever seen, to this remote location..."  
Her heart sank as he berated her, she refused to show it.  
"And I really don't know what you expect to happen after Saint Denis but I can almost guarantee you will be disappointed, Miss." His growl was stern and aggressive.  
Her chin quivered.  
"I don't expect anything to happen, Arthur. I don't expect anything. We're going to Saint Denis together, that's that. I have it sorted and we won't be long. Yes, it will be hard, but like you said, I did it. So the two of us can."  
He listened numbly, surprised by her composure.  
"And once we get there, once the doctors tell us you're ok, we can go our separate ways. That's what you meant right? I don't have any expectations from you, Arthur. I'm just asking you to go there with me. Think of it as dropping me off there. You'd do it for a stranger. So surely, you can do it for me?"  
There was silence between them. Annabel couldn't hold her tears anymore and turned to leave. It would be a success if he didn't see her cry. He exhaled heavily as she left.


	12. The Talk

Chapter 12: The Talk  
Arthur watched her disappear into the reservation. He knew he was a bastard. He wasn't proud of it. He was overwhelmed. He trudged back at to the camp and sat at an open fire. He thought of all the time's he'd sat at a fire alone, able bodied.  
Back then, he wasn't afraid of fighting and he wasn't afraid of dying.  
"Mr. Morgan." A familiar voice greeted him.  
"Rains Fall, I've been meaning to come see you. Sorry about the other day when I...well, I think I attacked one of your men."  
Rains Fall sat cross legged beside him.  
"You are looking well, Mr. Morgan. I'm happy and surprised." His words were slow and intentional, as usual.  
"You're surprised?" Arthur scoffed. "I swore I had taken my last breath. I still ain't entirely sure this ain't all a dream."  
He looked up at the sky in which hung a perfectly circular moon.  
"When we get a second chance at life, it brings about a lot of questions." He said sagely.  
They sat in quiet for a few moments.  
"I ain't got no purpose anymore." Arthur said heavily. "Everything I believed in, everything I fought for... It was a lie. And Dutch..."  
"It wasn't a lie, just because your friend failed you, Mr. Morgan. The things you believed in and fought for, they saved many people and set them free. One could argue that your friend failed you because you continued to fight for what you believed in, and he did not."  
Arthur forced a chuckle.  
"Them's some pretty words, chief." He said.  
"And yet, you disregard them. But if you dismiss every good things that's presented to you then you would be wasting your second chance. I for one, believe you deserve it."  
Arthur considered that only mildly. He wasn't ready to accept the notion of anything good, and he wondered if that related to Annabel as well.  
"Not sure I do deserve it." He said hoarsely, clearing his throat.  
"I know. I've had feelings like that in the past too. Why should I live when others die? Why should I continue to experience life when I have killed others? I'll tell you, there is no answer."  
"I've done bad things."  
"And they haunt you. Yet you've done good things and don't consider them at all. It is like the good things come naturally to you, and the bad things haunt you forever. Almost like a good person." He said cleverly.  
"...Well, that might be a stretch." Arthur said, eager to change the topic.  
"When Annabel came to me, with her plan to rid you of your disease, I insisted she bring you back her so that we may help. I did that because of my experiences with you. You helped my son and Captain Monroe. You brought us medicine. You accompanied me to seek counsel with the General. You saved my son by breaking into an enemy compound. Even though in the end, he still... Mr. Morgan, I've met bad people. You are not a saint, but you aren't aren't as evil as you think. You have a chance to start over. You should take it."  
Rains Fall put his hand on Arthur's shoulder before getting up and leaving.  
Arthur sat alone for a long time pondering on those words. Maybe there was a second chance for him.  
He sat alone by the crackling fire. The deer grazing in the tall grass, illuminated by the moonlight, put him in mind of the fever dreams he had had before his collapse on the mountain.


	13. The Journey

Chapter 13: The journey  
Arthur awoke late the next morning, feeling stronger still than he had the day before. He emerged from the tent and went to wash his face in the water barrel. He had one thing on his mind which was to find Annabel.  
"Good morning Mr. Morgan" Rains Fall look distressed. "You may have heard, we're beginning the process of packing up today."  
"I'm sorry it didn't work out for you." Arthur said sincerely.  
"So am I. But it wasn't for lack of trying." He took his leave, head hung.  
It was mid-afternoon when a young tribesman rode in abruptly, speaking to Rains Fall in their native tongue.  
"Men are coming." He looked to the treeline anxiously. "Mr. Morgan..."  
"Yeah I'll help."  
"No, you must hide. Take Annabel and hide. They aren't here to fight, they are here to scare us. They will see we are packing and they will leave. But if they see you, they will think we are up to something with an American here. Take her and hide."  
Arthur wasn't sure it was a good idea but he obeyed. He found Annabel alone near a small tent, stacking dishes. They hadn't spoke since the night before and Arthur had awoken that morning to the mischievous old crone who administered his medicine.  
"We need to hide. Apparently there some men coming and Rains Fall doesn't want them to see us."  
She wasn't too surprised, Rains Fall had been expecting these officials to arrive. The horses could be heard trampling up to the reservation. Annabel pushed Arthur into the tiny tent.  
"Who is this tent built for!" Arthur exclaimed as he folded himself to fit inside.  
Even sitting, his head touched the top. Annabel shushed him.  
"Move your leg." Annabel said, hands on Arthur's shoulders as she tried to find room for herself.  
The horses thundered through the camp and someone yelled to Rains Fall.  
"I ain't got room to move. Don't put your knee there!"  
"Well! What do you want me to do!" she hissed, stumbling a bit.  
"Oh for the love of..." Arthur lifted her slightly, moving her legs so one was on each side of him, and let her go.  
She dropped on his lap. He became instantly aware of the compromising position he put her in, though she didn't seem to notice as her attention focus on the commotion outside.  
Arthur barely heard the exchange outside the tent. He became painfully aware that his hands were still clutching her thighs and couldn't decide if it would be more awkward to move them or leave them. Given her position, her tunic hiked high up her thighs and as such he hands gripped bare skin.  
He was, predominantly, celibate, not blind.  
Conversation between Rains Fall and another man were barely audible.  
"Can you hear what their saying?" She asked.  
"Nope." Arthur responded probably too quickly.  
"It sounds like they are threatening for them to leave." She said, shifting on his lap, leaning towards the opening of the tent to hear better.  
Arthur jerked a bit at the friction of her straddling him.  
"Ain't they already leaving?" He managed.  
"I guess they didn't know that until now."  
Silence hung. They listened a moment longer before they heard them men ride off. Annabel carefully stood up, and Arthur averted his eyes. She left without saying anything more to him.  
"Phew..." Arthur exhaled sharply, trying to shake it off.  
Crawling out of the tent, he found Rains Fall addressing the tribe.  
"They have made themselves clear, we are to leave immediately. Tomorrow morning, we ride out. Please, continue to pack. The sooner we leave, the less dangerous it will be."  
The tribe split off to tackle various tasks. It made his mind spin trying to figure out how to make everything work whilst so unprepared. Maybe they could spare a horse but they didn't use guns, so they had no weapons. His thoughts kept him occupied as he worked along with the tribe.  
It was nearly midnight when the tribe sat down around the fire for the last time in region of Ambarino. It felt like a largely personal affair so Arthur left to give them space. He traced the steps he and Annabel took days before. He still hadn't had a chance to talk to her since his outburst.  
Arthur spotted Annabel in the field alone.  
"You're still awake." He observed.  
"Oh! Yes, I'm just... I don't know what I'm doing." She admitted, blowing the hair from her face.  
"Look, I'm sorry for what I said the other night. I... well, I'm just a bastard."  
"It's fine. Everything I said was true Arthur. I wouldn't ask you go back there unless I thought it was really important." She was striving to be detached.  
Arthur knew he hurt her. It was in her nature to down played anything that hurt her.  
Arthur suddenly held his hand up to Annabel, indicating he needed a minute, as coughing fit took over. It alarmed him that it was worse than before.  
"Arthur...?" she put her hand on his back, she could feel the cough rattle his body. "I think you probably pushed it too far today..."  
"I'm fine now, I-I'm fine." He said standing upright again.  
"Let's go to bed. You should get rest before tomorrow." She lead him to his tent, where they parted ways for the night.  
Arthur half expected her to come in like she had done before, but she settled for a sweet goodnight and left him alone. He deserved it, he knew he did.


	14. Roanoke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope no one minds, but I kept the hat, even though canonically he gives in to John. Its just completes his image. Also, John had his own hat in rdr1, I’m pretty sure. I asked him, he said it was ok. :|

Chapter 14: Roanoke  
"Thank you, Rains Fall. Thank you for everything." Arthur said.  
"It was my honour Mr. Morgan. Don't forget what I said to you. Live well."  
"You too." He watched as Rains Fall returned to his tribe.  
Arthur waited for Annabel, beside their loaned horse. The tribesman had supplied him with a saddle and a bow, along with some arrows. He watched Annabel and Rains Fall part ways. He couldn't make out what they were saying, but he could tell they had developed a friendship in the short time they knew each other.  
Annabel took a deep breath. It had been only a week since Arthur began coming around. Three weeks ago, she found him nearly dead. Almost two months ago, he had locked her in a carriage and sent her away. She felt deep fear about what she would find out in Saint Denis, let alone what they would encounter on their two day ride. It would take at least two days as they would have to take it slow and remain vigilant in their travels.  
She hadn't even told Arthur the entire story of how she came to find him and the remedies. She knew he would ask and she hadn't decided if she would say the whole truth.  
Arthur watched her approach, one bag hanging off her arm and the other off her shoulder. She wore a plain dress that bore its seam just under her breasts, and flowed to just about her ankles, hugging her arms. She handed her bag to Arthur, which he attached to the saddle.  
"What's in the bag?"  
"Medicine."  
"Ah. Nothing useful, like guns or strikers or..."  
"It's useful if you want to live, Arthur." She laughed gently even though he knew he was being difficult.  
"What's in this bag then?" He nodded towards her.  
"Ah well, this you may find more useful." She reached into the bag and pulled out a mess of straps and gear.  
Arthur reacted favourably.  
"These mine?" He said reaching out and grabbing the pistol belt, dual holsters and bandolier.  
"Yeah, they're yours. From before..." She trailed off.  
She watched him equip the bandolier, and attach the pistol belt around his waist.  
"The guns though, they didn't make it. There aren't any weapons allowed here, you know. And Charles needed them so... Sorry."  
"I'll find replacements, it's fine."  
She smiled to herself. He looked more like himself everyday.  
"Oh, one other thing." Annabel reached into the bag one more time and pulled out his hat, dusty but in tacked.  
He smiled softly.  
"That's... that's real thoughtful of you, Miss." He said as he flipped it around.  
He'd had it for so long now. Having something of his back made him feel alive, like he really was here.  
"Thank you." He said again.  
Arthur mounted the horse. Without thinking he lowered his arm for Annabel to grab on to and hoisted her up without much effort.  
He didn't notice how easy it was for him, but Annabel noticed. His strength was returning quickly. She watched the deserted reservation vanish behind the trees. It reminded her of the day she left Valentine with Arthur.  
"Wow... look at that bridge." Annabel gasped as they rounded Bacchus Falls. "Its destroyed. Can you imagine how long it took to build that?"  
"No, but it took about 10 minutes to blow it up." Arthur rebutted.  
"What? You didn't!"  
"John and I did. Dutch's idea."  
"How did you even..."  
In the approximate month that they had been parted, she had worked tirelessly to discover a way to help Arthur. She hadn't stopped since the day she arrived to Albert Mason and his kind wife. Arthur had been equally busy by the look of it. She had questions for him too. What happened to the others, what happened to him, how did he come to be alone on the mountain top.  
She was afraid to ask.  
They rode in silence for some time, each occupied with their own thoughts. The grass was a vibrant green, with orange flowers popping against a grey sky. Everything looked so much brighter now. The trail winded along the mountains. She felt safe again and her eyes grew heavy. It had been a long time since she travelled with Arthur. She rest her head on his broad shoulders. She had waited so long for this.  
Arthur felt her head against his back, her grip loosen. He rode on in silence, knowing full well she was asleep.  
Annabel awoke slowly. It was the best nap she'd had in a long time and the first without any restless dreams. Though she wouldn't tell him, she spent a lot of time hunting for medicine and preparing it. She had discovered that not all herbs have the same amount of potency and it took different forms of extracting to get the best out of any of them. It was not something the western world cared to do yet, but it was common in native cultures. It was time consuming.  
"Can we take a break from riding?"  
Arthur was surprised she was up. He had been lost in thought for much of the ride. It felt good to be back on a horse, but his mind couldn't relax yet.  
"Sure."  
It was a beautiful day. The sun was blocked by clouds yet somehow the landscape was brilliant and colourful. They didn't speak, the only sound was of the horse clopping behind them, and the wind howling through the mountains.  
Annabel could pick up that Arthur was starting to fidget. He stood tall, his hat casting a shadow over his face. He looked himself. His weight had began to return, and the blood coursed through him healthily.  
"So help me fill in the blanks here..." Arthur had been working up to break the silence. "How did you know to come up to Wapiti? You never been there, you didn't even know it existed."  
"Oh, Charles told me. My second day in Annesburg I saw him there. He mentioned you two were up here helping the Wapiti tribe. When I came to look for you weeks later, I just took a guess. It was the last place I knew you were."  
"You found it by map?"  
"Yeah."  
A silence followed and she sensed his leery gaze.  
"A map isn't hard to read, Arthur. I don't need to read to know how to use a map! Besides, I've practised a bit."  
"Sorry I didn't mean... it just seems like a big jump."  
"It was. It was scary for sure."  
"I'm also curious how Mr. Mason let you leave all on your own? I trusted he would take care of you."  
"He did, he and his wife were kind and accommodating. One day I left him a note and took off."  
Sparse drops of rain began to fall but it was obvious from the dark clouds that more was coming. Arthur remembered an abandoned station shack around the bend as the road entered Roanoke Valley. It would be ideal place for them to stop for the night since he didn't have the means to set up a tent.  
"We should mount up so we can find a place to hunker down for a while." Arthur said, easily climbing the horse.  
They rode on. The mountainous landscape evolved into thick forest.  
The dilapidated shack stood unmoved from when Arthur had last seen it. The cabins boards had large gaps between them in some places, and were likely to let in wind, but the shelter was good enough. It was early in the evening and getting dark fast. They kicked around outside gathering some wood and bramble to start a fire. Annabel had never started a fire, even at the camp. Arthur explained it wasn't that hard.  
"Just pick up whatever's dry. It'd be better if we had a striker, but it can still be done without it." He said, picking up the odd piece of wood.  
Annabel watched as Arthur started a fire in the cabin's decrepit fire pit. It put her in mind of the night at Emerald Ranch. She thought about that night often and wondered if he even remembered it.  
Arthur left Annabel to hunt for food. He wandered the forest in search of anything. He felt like a ghost somehow, like he didn't belong here anymore. He felt his heart was beating off tempo but he told himself it was just his head. His hands and knees were shaking. He didn't feel like himself.  
He saw a quail and drew his arrow. He would take the first thing he saw, he wasn't risking not having food. The arrow struck the target and he throw it over his shoulder, removing the arrow.  
"Thought I told you to stay inside?" He said to Annabel as he returned to the cabin, to find her walking back.  
"I just went to pee Arthur, would you have joined me?"  
"Fair enough."  
The rain held off as Arthur made quick work of plucking and gutting the chicken. She watched as he broke and spread the ribs of the bird with his bare hands. The sound of the cracking bones caused her to jerk. She knew it was required but she didn't have to watch it. Arthur noted her distress and turned his back to her.  
The next few hours felt so normal to them. They set up the food on some stones to cook by the fire, which had taken strongly. They spoke about nothing in particular. After they ate, Annabel began the process of mixing medicine for Arthur. He watched her brush her hair behind her ear, combining ingredients. She handed him a small tin with the mixture she'd prepared.  
There was a silence again.  
"So what happened, Annabel, honestly. How can we be here right now? I don't know if this thing is gone right now, but I know I feel a lot better. How is this possible?" Arthur's voice was sincere, almost scared.  
The wind whistled through the cabin boards.  
She paused thoughtfully, before returning the articles to the bag.  
"Well, Albert lived in Saint Denis. So we went back there about two days after I had arrived in Annesburge. When I got there, I met a doctor. I guess long story short, the doctor helped me arrive to this potential cure. I couldn't have done it without the access to his materials, or his knowledge." She had a way of making it sound so simple.  
"Whats the long story?" He asked.  
"Its basically the same Arthur." She laughed.  
He suspected she forced the laugh a bit.  
"I told the doctor about you. I begged, I said there must be away. As it happened, the doctor was also interested. You may recall I'm not a very educated girl, so we really rode on his interest on the matter. Really, Arthur, this was never a sure thing. But I was told that when I found you, if you showed signs of recovery after trying this, then it was likely that it worked. And I was to come back and have you examined for certain."  
The thought of anyone pleading to save him was absurd in his eyes. Especially a beautiful young girl.  
"And you did this...just with plants?"  
"No, there were a lot of ingredients injected earlier on. You didn't see the marks? Well, I kept giving them to you, less often though, until you woke up. Your body needed a fighting chance. You might still feel the withdrawal of them. Its like your body standing on its own two feet again. The plants, well that was a Wapiti thing... but honestly, I think they help a lot."  
Arthur found this overwhelming.  
"The oil from certain herbs were one portion of it, they can be so potent and contain active compounds that have a really good antimicrobial potential. The trick is not all plants how the same amount of juice in them as another. It's like how some humans are born large or small. What actually happens is because it's oil, it doesn't break down in water, means it can suffocate the growth of the bacteria. You need to only stop the spread of the bacteria so that it doesn't continue to populate. The bacteria that already exists, dies on its own. The syringe I gave you, they helped you stay alive while the herbs, the oils, the powders, all of it together, broke down the bacterial contents and made them unable to grow and reproduce."  
Arthur's mouth hung ajar. A look that Annabel decidedly liked on him.  
"That's it Arthur. I think I mentioned that I used to know a medicine lady growing up? As the doctor and I were reading, I learned that a lot of plants have the same properties but in different quantities. It means that in some cases, I can make use of what I find. I think it's because her that I was so excited about the Wapiti's help."  
The talk of this caused a tension in his chest, he coughed a little. He wouldn't tell her but he didn't believe what she had accomplished was permanent. He couldn't tell her that though and her remained silent.  
"I know you're afraid to believe it Arthur. So am I. We'll know soon." Lately, it was like she was reading his mind sometimes.  
She said nothing more after that, sitting in front of the fire.  
Arthur was at a loss with her, she was a walking dissension. At once, under educated and deprived of experience, yet her mind flourished, at least under these circumstances. Her mind was so dark and quiet, yet she was passionate and colourful. She was small and afraid, but she stood up to Arthur.


	15. Will o’ the Wisp

Chapter 15: Will o' the Wisp  
Arthur fell asleep before Annabel that night. She watched him as she had done countless times over the past weeks, tossing his head, coughing in his sleep and often stuck in some fevered dream. The coughing was improving all the time, but the dreams stayed. She was always able to make out they concerned the gang, and usually Dutch.  
Annabel jolted awake to an unknown sound. She looked around. Arthur sat with his back to the wall, still sleeping. She looked all around her, past the cracks in the cabin walls to the outside. She saw nothing but she felt like someone had been there. She felt watched.  
"Arthur, wake up." She said, rummaging through her bag. "We slept in, we- Hey, Arthur!"  
She slapped his leg to stir the sleeping cowboy. He startled awake, it wasn't often she was up before him.  
Arthur took a moment to get to his feet. He walked out of the cabin, stretching. Annabel took the time to quickly amass a concoction, taking from some jars more than others. She heard Arthur grumble something and whistle for the horse. She carefully decanted the remedy in a small jar and put away the rest of the articles. She exited the cabin promptly to find Arthur. She tried to give him medicine at equal intervals, and she fell into a tizzy if she couldn't make it happen.  
Horse in toe, Arthur was heading back towards Annabel when she emerged.  
"Drink this, please." She said before anything else.  
He drank from the tiny bottle without question.  
"Did she leave...?" Annabel asked, referring to the horse.  
"She had a bit of a wander." Arthur said, thinking nothing of it.  
"Isn't that strange?"  
"I dunno, why would it be?" He handed the bottle back to Annabel.  
She didn't press the matter as they continued to their travels.  
Arthur remembered Roanoke as dangerous. There were dangerous animals as well as the Murfee brood, which he recalled as twisted yokels who watched over the area. That morning, however, as they descended towards the valley, it was beautiful. Deer lept to and fro, wild life crept in and out of sight, and the white nose sound of Brandywine waterfall roared close by.  
Annabel had never seen anything like it. She stood on the flat rocks near the base of the waterfall while Arthur fished. Fish were usually his preferred food when he travelling, it was easy to catch and easy to prepare. He was pretty confident he could shoot an arrow and catch a fish. He drew his bow and stood still, waiting for the fish to forget he was there and swim closer.  
'I have hunted rabbits before you know...' his own voice rose from the back of his mind.  
Hosea's voice recalled from some place even farther back, 'Yes and obliterated them with a shotgun if I remember correctly.'  
Arthur took a breath and released the arrow. The arrow pierced the waters surface with a tiny splash and a fish floated up. Arthur grabbed it and pulled the arrow from it. He slid the arrow head along the belly of the fish and efficiently de-boned it, tossing the innards.  
He started a small fire to cook the fish on, glancing a vigilant eye on his travel partner. She was stepping along the flat rocks near the waterfall, barefoot, holding her dress up around her thighs. He felt his gaze linger a little too long and he dragged it back to the fire.  
She came to join him soon after. They ate, watching the nature pass by.  
"Its a beautiful spot. I've never seen anything like this waterfall. It's a huge, don't you think?"  
"Sure." He said in his way. "I recall an even bigger one somewhere in New Austin, south of Blackwater if I'm not mistaken..."  
His brow furrowed as he tried to recall the accuracy of his statement.  
"You've travelled so much, haven't you? Maybe we can go there one day."  
Whether he ignored her, or was tied up in his thoughts, he didn't answer.  
"This reminds me of the time we went fishing, Arthur, do you remember?"  
"Of course. I remember I threw a fish at you... by accident." he smirked.  
"That's right. I remember you told me stories that day. About how you bought a fish, instead of catching one..."  
Arthur nodded, picking at the fish he was eating.  
"Remember you told me about Hosea and you went hunting a bear? But you never told me that story. What happened?" She ate a bit of fish, watching him.  
She instantly detected sadness in his face at the memory of Hosea.  
"Well... Ahem. He uh, asked me to go hunting with him." It was difficult for him to get started.  
All those years. Just to die in the streets.  
"Heard tell of this thousand pound bear." Arthur laughed at the recollection. "Off we went. It was the first day I got my horse, the one you saw when we met. We traded for it on our way up the mountain."  
Annabel smiled, pushing aside the memory of the horses dead corpse from the night she found Arthur.  
"It was funny, I remember asking Hosea why he seemed nervous. Then I saw the bear. It was huge, I ain't never seen anything like it, never. Much taller than me. It came running at us. Hosea took off, one minute he was beside me, the next he was just gone."  
Arthur laughed.  
"I unloaded on that bear, but he didn't die, he just turn tail and ran up the mountain. Found Hosea white as a sheet, behind a rock. He said he was done hunting the bigger game after that."  
Silence followed for a bit.  
"I'm sorry about Hosea, Arthur."  
"Me too." Was all he said.  
After they ate, they drank and washed up by the creek before leaving. Annabel walked in the water one last time. She mused about the fish and how fearlessly close to the shore they swam. Arthur mentioned that the really big ones were farther in usually.  
She said something else but Arthur didn't hear. He suddenly felt eyes on them. He looked around him, but he couldn't see anything. He traced the tree lines surrounding them, scanning for any type of movement.  
"Arthur?"  
"Hmm?"  
"What kind?"  
"What kind of what?"  
"Fish..." She asked before realizing he was no longer paying attention.  
A veil of fear washed over her, and a chill ran down her neck. She knew something caught his attention.  
"We should get going." He said.  
They mounted up and crossed the river. It was darker under the umbrella of the trees, but rays of lights still shown through, here and there. She held on to his waist comfortably, looking around. They rode slowly through the woods. Arthur was trying to recall which way lead to Beaver Hollow. He wanted to avoid it as he could pretty much guarantee the Brood would have re-claimed their cave. He slowed the horse.  
"What is it?" She asked, peaking over his shoulder a bit.  
"I want to be sure to avoid Beaver Hollow. I think its best if we follow the creek. Otherwise we are crossing the mountain in some form or another..."  
The horse clawed the ground impatiently.  
"Maybe its worth seeing if we can get your things back? From the old caravan?"  
"Nah, it ain't worth it. Highly unlikely that any weapons are left there. Best if we keep our heads down."  
Annabel wondered if he didn't want to just see what was left behind. He didn't seem to want to but surely he was curious. What had happened to all the other gang, she wondered.  
Arthur veered towards the creek where they crept along slowly by light of the setting sun. He knew they wouldn't make it out of here before nightfall.  
Annabel could sense his tension and it put her on edge in return. She didn't know the brood that lived in the area but she remembered the terrible monuments that Charles and Javier were stuffing in the back of the cave when the gang had arrived. She remembered hearing stories.  
The sun had finally set and a bright moon illuminated the rocky beach on which they rode. Up ahead a band of coyotes dispersed as the pair encroached on their dinner. The horse stopped. There was indeed a human corpse which they were feasting on. It had been there for some time by the look of it. The bones of the corpse were exposed and glowed in the moonlight. With clothes, tattered and torn, this man had been gone a long time.  
Annabel's hand covered her mouth, both in shock and in repulsion of the smell which the breeze sent their way.  
"Arthur..." she uttered nervously, as he dismounted.  
He gazed down at the corpse.  
"Don't touch it..." Annabel begged.  
He lowered himself to one knee, his eyes scanned the corpse. It was hard to tell what was what, but he was looking for a weapon. A pistol, a knife, anything.  
Annabel slid off the horse and stood behind him, still fixed on the corpse. It was a disturbing sight. Out here, this man could have died from anything. Anything.  
Arthur patted down the man's waist, where a gaping hole in his stomach had began fostering maggots.  
Nothing. Nothing in his pockets as he patted those down. Nothing in his breast pockets as he no longer had a chest, just a cavity where it use to be.  
Then Arthur saw it. A blade hidden in the man's boot. He grabbed it just as he heard Annabel cry out. Arthur whipped around to receive a pistol whip to the face. He fell backwards, elbows sank into the cadaver.  
White stars flashes in his vision, as the pain rattled his skull. Annabel struggled as another, huskier Murfee brood grabbed her by the waist, and lifted her up.  
Arthur regained focus to find a worn revolver cocked and aimed at his face. He grabbed the hick's arm, and hauled him in close, landing a powerful punch to the side of his distorted face. He left the man on the ground as he charged for the other one.  
Arthur tackled him to the ground, toppling Annabel in the struggle. He was much bigger than his friend, and he hit the ground hard. Arthur pulled the newly acquired knife out and thrust in down towards the husky brood's throat. Grunting and struggling, the target employed all his strength to keep the blade from piercing his throat. In one swift move, the husky Brood swung at Arthur's ribs, momentarily ridding the oxygen from his lungs.  
The feeling of his lungs being emptied so instantly sparked a physical memory and he had to resist his reflex to descend into a coughing fit.  
With no time to recover, Arthur landed punch after punch to hillbilly's face. Blood spurted out from his nose as it collapsed in. Arthur went to lift the knife again when he was tackled from the side by the previous Murfee brood member, who had since recovered.  
Arthur was wrestled to the ground, the wind knocked out of him again. His lungs burned for lack of strength and air.  
The man got up, blinded by his facial injuries, now a mash of blood and only the whites of his eyes and his broken teeth could be made out from the black and blooded face.  
The other Murfee had Arthur pinned. The knife had traded owners and was now looming over Arthur's throat. The yokel pressing all his weight into the knife, Arthur's arm grew tired and he felt a weakness in his chest.  
With the rest of his force, Arthur reached for a rock that lay just centimetres out of reach, temporarily bearing the man's weight with one hand.  
The knife sank closer to Arthur's throat.  
He grabbed a rock and swung it at the man's face. A terrific cracking sounded as the rock broke the Murfee's skull. Arthur heaved the man off of him and grabbed the gun. In the same motion he fired a shot into the back of the larger Murfee's skull, just as he had blindly caught Annabel. His grip suddenly loosened, releasing her as he slumped to the ground.  
Annabel stood paralyzed with splatters of blood on her face. Arthur quickly patted the large brood down, finding nothing on him but another knife. He took it anyway.  
"We gotta move." He said grabbing her arm.  
He spun around to find the horse was gone.  
"Damn horse..." He cursed under his breath.  
Gunfire clapped from within the woods behind them, they could hear men hollering from the darkness as they closed in.  
"There, over there!" Annabel pointed.  
The horse was on the other side of the river. Arthur pushed Annabel along towards the horse as he whistled for it.  
The gunfire closed in.  
The water moved fast and the horse was apprehensive to cross the rapidly moving water, preferring to follow along on the other side of the river. Arthur forced Annabel along the rocky shoreline as the gunfire closed in on them.  
He whistled for the horse but she wouldn't cross. His lungs clenched. He would be saving the rest of his strength for defending themselves.  
"Keep moving." He urged. I  
He flipped the barrel of the gun open to check for bullets. It was hard to see in the dark, but he wagered he had maybe four.  
He turned to fire at the exact moment bullet flew past them both. Annabel screamed and covered her head. Arthur fired back, toppling the attacker. He pushed her onwards as they quickly navigated the rocky shoreline. From above, another Murfee Brood shot down at them. The dirt flew up where the bullet landed, causing Annabel to stagger. Arthur grabbed her arm to steady her and shot the man in the chest. They had passed him by the time he landed on the ground with a hollow thud.  
Yet another stray bullet flew by, this time it was so close he could hear it fly past his ear. Annabel cried out and stumbled. He reached for her but it was too late, she fell into the water and was immediately pulled under. For a second, he froze.  
'You can't fight gravity'. He heard Dutch's voice in a rushing silence.  
Arthur turned to shoot the remaining assailant before jumping in after her. He was a good swimmer, but the current was strong even for him. He kept his eye on her, it was almost impossible to see at night.  
The strong rapids tossed them against the rocks, but he slowly closed in on her. When he finally grabbed her, her body was dead weight. Suddenly and without warning the river spat them out over a waterfall.  
Everything was silent as they sank deep into the dark pool.  
Arthur forced himself to recompose searching through the murky water for Annabel. He spotted her, her white dress almost glowed in the dark water.  
He pulled her to the surface.  
The creek was calm compared to the river they had been ejected from. He dragged her on to the shore, then collapsed to his knees. He called to her, flipping her over, searching for a bullet wound.  
"Annabel?" he called.  
He patted her down, to his relief finding no bullet wound.  
"Wake up girl!" He called again, sitting her up.  
Suddenly, her body convulsed into a watery coughing fit. She inhaled sharply, locking eyes with Arthur. He brushed the wet hair from her face, pulling it behind her ear as she choked up the water.  
"You ok, woman?" he asked.  
She nodded insistently, still coughing.  
"Christ alive..." Arthur groaned in relief as he collapsed on his back.  
They lay there for a minute, catching their breath as the crickets sang loudly.  
"We need to get out of the open." Arthur decided.  
He coughed a bit as he hauled himself to his feet. His lungs were on fire, and his body was drained of energy. He reached his hand out to Annabel, who had only just managed to catch her breath.  
"Thank you Arthur." She said, grabbing his hand as he pulled her to her feet.  
"C'mon, let's head for those trees."  
Arthur's cough began soft. She trudged behind him, exhausted.  
"Are you ok?" She asked.  
"I'm fine." he said coughing a little more.  
From the shadows emerged their horse, who had taken the very long and safe way around. Annabel was relieved to see her.  
"Oh, she's ok!" she pointed as the horse flanked from the side.  
"Perfect, I have one bullet left." He pointed to the horse, while pushing through a cough.  
His symptom took a hard turn, the coughing intensified. He keeled over, hands on his knees.  
Annabel rushed over to him, she grabbed his shoulders to force him to stand straight but it was no use, he collapsed to his knees. His chest tightened like someone was squeezing his lungs from within him.  
It was a pain he remembered well.  
"Arthur listen to me, you need to- Arthur just breath, you can do it." She tried to get through to him but his body was fighting.  
"Force yourself to take deep breaths Arthur! Do it and you'll see you can now!"  
Arthur did in fact hear her. His lungs felt on fire but he tried it anyway, he fought the cough and tried to catch his breath.  
"Good! That's good! Let's go Arthur, I can help you, let's go!" She urged him up. He slowly got to his knees, out of breath, and coughing dryly. She grabbed his hand pulling him to the treeline.  
"Hang on..." he begged as he slowed yet again, but Annabel grabbed his arm and forced him on wards.  
They vanished from clearing into the woods.  
Still soaking, they manoeuvred the trees until the came to the rocky shelter. With their backs to the rocks, and the dense forestry to their front, they felt concealed. Arthur sat with his back up against the rock, breathing hard. His shoulders rose and fell with each breath. Annabel grabbed her bag from the horses saddle. Arthur's head rolled, his visioned blacked.  
"Arthur, listen. The damage to your lungs is real. But it can't get worse, and they will heal. It takes time, but they will."  
Arthur tried to focus on her.  
"But your mind doesn't know that. It thinks you're still fighting, and so when you feel your chest tighten..."  
She picked up his face, to grab his attention. A gash had formed on his cheek where the butt of a gun had fried him.  
"Listen, when you feel your chest tighten, it is as much as a mental battle as it is a physical one. Do you understand?"  
Arthur shook his head no, wearily.  
She couldn't convince him this wasn't real. Or that he wasn't sick. He had succeeded though, he protected her.  
Annabel decided maybe it wasn't the time to lecture him. She pulled from her bag another tin container. His heavy eyes watched her. The whole ordeal had taken it out of him.  
She unbuttoned Arthur's shirt, without warning. She had done it so many times before, she didn't think twice now that he was awake. He snapped out of it when he felt her hand on his chest, pulling his shirt open slightly.  
He watched as she scooped some gel from the tin and rubbed it on his chest. It was cold and it smelled strong. She leaned closer into him as she spread the gel over his broad chest with her hand. The hands he felt on him in the dark void, they were hers. There was no mistaking it.  
He wanted to break the silence, he wanted to ask her what the mixture was, what her favourite colour was, anything. All that came out was a heavy gulp. His breathing calmed in a sense, but his pulse quickened. His eyes were drawn to her neckline, exposed to him as she leaned in with the medicine. Her wet dress clung tightly to her breasts, her waist, he could see where it dipped between her thighs.  
"That's better, right? Your chest probably doesn't burn as much now. When you feel these fits Arthur, it's not that they aren't real, but they aren't what they used to be. And you should start to try to breathe through them. There is scar tissue on your lungs, sort of like when you were shot...And you remember when you were shot, it hurt a lot to move your shoulder. But the more you did it, the easier it was, because you were healing. You forced your muscles to push themselves. If you had given in to the pain, and never moved your shoulder, it wouldn't have healed the same way."  
She could feel his heart beating strongly and wondered if he was listening to a word she said. He looked at her in the same what that she swore he had once before. It gave her butterflies in her stomach. The horse clopping off to the side drew her eyes away.  
Arthur exhaled quietly, trying to pull his focus from her. Annabel replaced the lid and packed up the bag again.  
"I remember your hands." He started, his voice groggy and strained. "I remember feeling them before, when I was unconscious."  
She beamed.  
"That's right! I did this often. Its more for soothing, rather than healing. It gets the blood flowing. I think it helps."  
He felt the concoction burn on his chest.  
"What is this stuff? Its burning."  
"Its not burning." She managed a laugh even though her stomach wouldn't stop fluttering.  
"Its probably the menthol. There's a few things in there but one is mint, it makes you feel like you can breath easier, but its not really doing much. Enjoy it."  
She swept her wet hair to one shoulder.  
"Will we be ok tonight?" she asked taking a seat beside him.  
"I think so."  
"They were terrifying. Their faces were so... disfigured." she said, she leaned her head on his shoulder.  
"Yeah, they're a frightful crew."  
"You met them before?"  
"We saw 'em plenty when we had camp there. I reckon there are a lot fewer of 'em now though."  
"Thank you for saving me Arthur." She said as she closed her eyes.  
"Thank you." he reciprocated, quietly.


	16. The Lawless Town of Van Horne

Chapter 16- The lawless town of Van Horne  
Arthur awoke suddenly the next morning. He had had his worries over the night about the Murfee Brood tracking them down and was surprised he had fallen asleep at all. Annabel's head now rested on his chest, her arm lay over his stomach.  
He reflected on the intense calmness he found in her presence. It was a change of pace but one that didn't belong in his lifestyle.  
Her skin was cold from sleeping in wet clothes. He woke her up, gently, it was best she start moving to warm up.  
He stood up stretching his neck. His face hurt from the altercation the other night and he touched his cheekbone tenderly. He was sure she was bruised badly from being taken away by the rapids. He could feel it himself.  
"You ok?"  
"I'm ok, I'm just cold."  
"Well, let's get a move on then. About the only way to warm up." Arthur pulled his hat from the saddle bag.  
The sun was bright and the early morning was clear. They walked along the road together, horse in toe.  
Annabel was a bit nervous the Brood would return for them, but Arthur seemed confident they wouldn't. He said they probably didn't have the numbers they once did.  
Her mind wandered to the night before. The two men attacking them, and then the gunfire that followed. She remembered Shady Belle, when the O'Driscoll's attacked the camp. The gunfire, the threat of death and injury, did it ever stop? Death was a possibility at any moment. What was the point of waiting on anything when those were the stakes. She looked over to him, fresh bruise on his cheek and scrapped knuckles. She recalled the pummelled black and red face of the larger Brood. He had beaten one man to death and broke the other ones face in.  
She searched for a topic of discussion to change her train of thought.  
"Are you ok Arthur?" She said, vaguely pointing at the cut on his face.  
He nodded, adjusting his hat.  
"Where did you get your hat from? Was it your father's?"  
"It was, actually. How'd you know that?"  
"I remember seeing a picture by your bed." She said, unashamed.  
"You lookin' through my things Miss?" he accused, playfully.  
"Well, not so much, but I was arranging things for Mrs. Grimshaw to pack. Did he pass away a long time ago?"  
"Oh yes, a long time ago now."  
"Were you close?"  
"No not really, we travelled together but, not close. Didn't see eye to eye on most things."  
"Why do you keep his hat then?"  
"I don't know, really." He said, pensively. "I guess it's just... something that reminds me of where I came from."  
"Why didn't you see eye to eye? Was he an outlaw?"  
"Oh yes. He was a downright criminal; hard to predict and savage. He would turn on a dime and he'd be searching for first person to look at him the wrong way. He took anyone close to him down with him."  
"He sounds nothing like you."  
"No, even I'm not like him. He got worse after my mother died, didn't last too long after that either."  
"How did he die?"  
"Gunshot." Was all he said.  
"What did you do after that? You must have been young?"  
"Not too young, maybe 11. I knew enough to stand up for myself in a fight and stay alive-"  
"Who could you possibly have fought with at 11?" She interrupted.  
"It was the environment."  
"Is that why you're so good at shooting and fighting?"  
"You mean like practise makes perfect?" He chuckled. "Maybe. But that's all history. I wandered around til I met Dutch n' Hosea."  
"You wandered around until you were 14? What did you do?"  
"How'd you know that?" Arthur caught.  
She knew as much about him as he'd ever told anyone.  
"Hosea." She confessed, innocently. "What did you do?"  
"Nothing really. I stole a lot, robbed a lot of folk. Was a ranch hand on and off for a while, but I wasn't reliable so they sent me off. That and I got caught messing around with the daughter." He rubbed the back of his neck.  
Annabel's face flushed. She always took him for the sincere type, non-promiscuous and strong against his urges.  
"I wandered in and out of different towns. Sometimes I tried to make a place for myself, sometimes I just robbed and left."  
"Did you ever get in trouble?"  
"Sure. I got in a heap of fights, but ah, I really don't remember too much else."  
Clouds amassed on the horizon. They were dark, nearly black, but a long ways off still.  
"How long were we at the reservation?" Arthur suddenly asked.  
"About three weeks." She replied.  
"You know, I wonder if my other horse is stabled here still."  
The road parted in front of them.  
"I inherited one while after you left... Its another story. C'mon, let's go look."  
Annabel followed. The horse they borrowed from the tribe was largely wild and was unlikely to do well in the city.  
"Hey there, looking for a horse?" The stable hand asked, not looking up from raking.  
"Actually, I'm wondering if my horse is still here. Big mean Warmblood. Name Buell."  
"Yeah, I know the one." The man said pausing his chores and spitting tobacco to the ground.  
Annabel twisted her face in disgust.  
"He's here. You got your papers?"  
"Nah, I don't."  
"How do I know it's yours?" The man said, cockily, before taking notice of Annabel.  
"Well... heh, I just described him to you. Gold Dutch Warmblood, male, mean." Arthur repeated, trying to keep his attitude to a minimum.  
The stable hand slapped the tobacco around in his mouth, unashamed of his lingering eyes on Annabel.  
"It's a good point. Go ahead and get him, he's in there. If you can saddle him up I suppose that's proof enough he's yours. He is a hateful one."  
Arthur disappeared into the barn, while Annabel lead their borrowed horse away from the stables. Her mind wandered to the tribe and wondered how far they'd be by now.  
Arthur returned from the stable with a large horse in toe.  
She watched him remove the saddle from the borrowed horse and place it on Buell, adjusting the straps to fit around his larger barrel stomach.  
"He's so beautiful" Annabel said, cautiously petting his face. "He's big too."  
Arthur adjusted the straps, testing them for security.  
"I met an old veteran, up near O'Creagh's run. Buell was his horse. He was an interesting man, fought in a war, seen some terrible things. We hunted together a bit, shared stories."  
"You inherited him? So the man died?" She watched him pull on the straps and move around the horse.  
"Yeah, went hunting one day and he got mauled. He died within minutes... Asked me to take Buell. Wasn't sure what I was going to do with him at the time, but I didn't have a chance to worry about it long."  
Annabel smiled, stroking the horses face.  
"Go on girl, get." Arthur released the borrowed horse to the wild.  
He pulled Annabel up on the horse. He was taller than their previous horse but a bit wider and more comfortable as they rode.  
The trees parted revealing the distant shambles of Van Horn. It was early evening at this point and the clouds which had been threatening them earlier had cut them off at Van Horn. The wind was turning up.  
Arthur stopped the horse at the peak of the road, examining the town.  
"What are you thinking?" Annabel said.  
"Ideally we stop here for the night, but without any money, there's no chance of that. Regardless, I'd like to find out if any law between here and Saint Denis, any road blocks or such... I say we go in, fetch the information, and get out."  
"I have some money." Annabel said, pointing back at the saddle bag. "Not much but some."  
"Well, maybe best to keep it. Van Horn ain't the safest place to stay."  
"There's a storm coming though."  
Arthur thought for a moment.  
"First things first, I want to know what the situation up ahead is like. We'll figure out the rest after."  
They ambled down towards the town. The sound of a harmonica filled the air. And soon after, the faint sound of parlour piano and smashing glass. Arthur hitched the horse.  
"You not coming?"  
Annabel looked through the foggy window, into the overly crowded bar.  
"I think I'll wait here. Hurry back please." She said nervously.  
Arthur pushed through the doors to the saloon. His ears were instantly bombarded with the roar of yelling, cheering, laughing, music, glasses clinking and liquor pouring. Arthur was aware he was not well armed, and that all of Van Horn behaved as the same entity when properly provoked. He was careful to mind himself.  
"Excuse me ma'am," Arthur addressed the bartender.  
She was an older woman, not exactly attractive but with her tits practically hanging out on display and the creases in her face, Arthur knew she was a veteran here and not to be messed with.  
"Wonderin' if you hear anything about any law blocking the roads up ahead towards Saint Denis?"  
"You buyin' a drink fella?" She asked coarsely.  
"I would, but I ain't got no money, I'm afraid." He said kindly.  
The lady raised an eyebrow.  
"I'm supposed to take a job guarding a carriage comin' here from Annesburg but I heard there a lot of commotion in Saint Denis these days and-"  
The lady poured Arthur a drink and slid it towards him.  
"You look familiar, son." She said, setting her hand firmly on the table.  
Arthur hung his head.  
"I have one of them faces I guess. Thank you. Join me?" He asked.  
The lady poured herself a drink, and they both took a shot. Arthur shook it off, he was more vulnerable to the burn than she was.  
The woman was pleased he invited her in a drink, and rested her elbows on the table in front of him, displaying her infinite cleavage. Arthur couldn't help but take notice, though not exactly out of appreciation.  
Someone bumped him hard as they passed by, but he bit his tongue.  
"So Annesburg?" She asked. "As far as I've heard the roads have been clear for some time now. There was patrols out maybe a few weeks ago. Some law come through here, but they didn't stay long on account of not being welcomed."  
She gave Arthur a knowing look, the type that said law aren't allowed around here.  
"Well, that is basically what I wanted to know."  
"So this carriage is illegal then? If you don't want the law to see..." She raised an eyebrow.  
"Nah, I'm not that interesting, Ma'am." He said convincingly. "Its timely, not illegal."  
Arthur thanked her and made his way through the crowd back out to the street. Upon exiting the saloon, Arthur found his horse and no Annabel. He surveyed up and down the main road, she was no where in sight. He knew he made a mistake. What was he thinking, leaving her in Van Horn of all places, even for 10 minutes. He kept calm, scanning along the waterline, the boat houses, the shore houses that stood half in the water, half on the shore. He searched for tracks, any sign of struggle.  
He certainly found some. It was clear she had been dragged, heel marks dug into the ground. He followed them down the main road a bit. They stopped which suggested to Arthur that she was then lifted. Surely someone saw something. He looked around. He'd have to go through each alley until he found another clue, but he'd have to pick up the pace.  
The first dark alley saw two men sitting by a weak fire.  
"Hey buddy, you seen a girl get taken away here?"  
Neither men looked up.  
"Not for free, I didn't."  
"Look, pal, I ain't got time for this. Now you see a girl get taken or not? Which way?" Arthur's voice was impatient and the man could tell he was desperate.  
"I said Not. For. Free." The man stood up to face Arthur.  
Loosing it, he swung at the man's head smashing against the brick wall behind him. To Arthur's great surprise, the impact instantly killed the man. It was unintentional, though it may have amounted to the same end.  
"I'll ask you the same thing." Arthur turned to the man's friend, impatiently.  
The man quickly pointed above him to a staircase.  
Arthur looked up. The staircase led to some apartments upstairs. He launched up the stairs. Quietly setting foot inside the apartment complex, he listened for any signs of Annabel, or a struggle.  
The blood was roaring through his head. He had to be smart about this. One bullet and two knives was all he had.  
He walked carefully down the hall, testing the first door knob to find it was locked. At once, he heard a muffled scream which he knew to be hers from the last room. He briskly jogged to the last door and listened carefully.  
He needed to be sure.  
He could hear furniture knock about. Arthur couldn't wait any longer, he was sure he would find them in the right most corner of the room. That's where he would aim.  
He took a step back and he kicked the door open. In the same second, he reached into his belt to pull the knife.  
The man stood over Annabel who he had pinned in a window's ledge.  
He turned to face Arthur, dropping Annabel, as the door flew open. There was a moment of silence. The man, with pants undone, stumbled slightly back. His perplexed expression tilted upward as he tried to understand the blood that trickled from his own forehead. He lifted his hand to touch the blade that lay buried in between his eyes before they rolled to the back of his head and he dropped. Arthur swallowed hard, closing the door behind him. He hadn't registered Annabel, still surprised he landed the knife throw.  
She struggled to pull the shoulders of her dress back in place, concealing her breasts with her other hand arm. Her hair hung in her face but he was quite sure she was crying. He took a step forward to help her, noticing at the same time the dress was torn up to the thigh.  
"Please! Can you just turn around?" Annabel burst, cutting the air with her hand.  
She tried to tone her emotions down, but knew she had done a poor job.  
Arthur turned around immediately. He didn't say anything. It was a poor call on his part to leave her alone, he blamed himself.  
She took a deep, wavering breath.  
"Ok."  
"Ok..." Arthur turned around. "I'm sorry, Annabel, I shouldn't have—"  
"I'm fine... It's fine."  
"...Alright." He knew she was lying, but nothing would be accomplished by arguing that fact.  
He approached the dead man.  
Yanking the knife from his skull, he padded the man's vest pockets. He collected $13 dollars total from the man and stuffed it in his pocket. Then he striped the man of his revolver.  
Arthur twirled the revolver instinctively, as he searched the room for anymore goods.  
The rain began to patter down on the windows. It echoed in the shabby apartment.  
"What?" Arthur asked, noting her distressed expression.  
Annabel nodded to a point across the room.  
Slumped in the dark corner was the body of a young woman. The light barely reached her as she sat upright, her legs out in front of her like a doll. Annabel had been fixated on an unmoving girl since she was pulled into the room.  
Arthur only needed to take a few steps towards her before the sound of flies buzzed in the room. He waved his hand in the air and stepped backwards.  
The girl was dead and had been for some time. The blood from her cracked skull caught whatever light small amount of light reached it.  
There was no need to dwell on it.  
"She's gone, let's go girl." He said, leading her out.  
The rain poured hard as they made their way back to the horse.  
"You left the bag here?" Annabel said, with a surprising amount of choler.  
"What?"  
The pelting rain made it difficult to hear her.  
"Don't leave it unattended Arthur! If its gone, then... then!"  
Her voice was overflowing with defeat, as she clung to the irreparable neckline of her dress.  
"The bag? What would you have had me do with it?" He snarked.  
He regretted his remark the moment the words left his mouth. It was yet another situation where he should have let it go.  
"Dont. Leave. It!" She cried.  
Her head dropped in her hand in some emotional overflow. She turned her back to him.  
The hard rain pelted them, carried by the wind from the water. He took a deep breath.  
Certainly, she was tired. She was likely in as much pain as he was from being tossed about by the rapids. The attack had razed her, and she seemed even more disturbed by the deceased girl. They both needed to rest.  
"C'mon girl, let's go find you some clothes."  
"It's fine." She spat, trying to hold her frustration. "I have some in my bag."  
"Alright, well c'mon anyway! We'll find a place to change." He forced a bit louder, pulling the horse behind him.  
She followed him in the rain as they walked to the end of town. Her head ached.  
Arthur lead her inside a small general store. It was surprisingly nice considering the rest of the town's derelict state. She looked out the window, the waves crashed against the tiny boats as the winds picked up further.  
"Can we get a room for the night please? And a bath for the lady."  
Annabel snapped out of it.  
"No problem," said the man in an accent she had never heard before. "Anything else?"  
"You got a hitch for the horse?"  
"Sure, just around back there's a hitch and some shelter."  
"Thanks Mister." Arthur said, paying the man.  
Arthur lead Annabel out of the store.  
"I'm fine, Arthur, I don't-"  
"It's done." He said, cutting her off.  
He lead the horse around to the hitch. He remembered to grab the bag off the saddle and glanced from the corner of his eye to see if she noticed. She looked away, a bit embarrassed.  
"C'mon then, up the stairs." He followed behind her.  
He opened the bath room, mostly to make sure for himself that no one else was in there.  
"Just holler if you need me. And lock the door behind me." He said, handing her the bag.  
He closed the door and left her in silence.  
Arthur hung his arms over the balcony rail.  
"Christ..." He sighed.  
Out of habit, he searched his breast pocket for a cigarette pack, before turning to look in his satchel. He paused, not sure why he thought he had either of those things. Could it be because he had stood here once before with a cigarette? He certainly had. And if he looked to the other entrance of town, it was there he spotted for Sadie.  
A ghost.  
His chest burned with the phantom pain of the disease that had riddled his body. He rubbed his chest and cleared his throat.  
He decided he needed a smoke and walked back down to the General Store. He thought about whether smoking was the smartest idea. Some said it was hard on the lungs, it killed people if they did it enough, or at least caused them issues. Issues which he probably couldn't afford.  
"Back so soon?" the kindly owner greeted him.  
Arthur nodded in kind, quickly scanning over the shelves.  
"You got any cigarettes?" He asked.  
Just then something sent a chill up his spine.  
"You're losing your strength, Mr. Morgan."  
Arthur spun around.  
Milton?  
No. No one was there.  
But it was here, wasn't it?  
Here. Abigail stood just here, didn't she? And she shot him dead.  
'Micah? You mean Molly?' Arthur heard his own raspy voice in his head.  
He tried to shake off the memories but they were coming in fast, he could feel his chest tighten.  
"You ok there, Mister?" The clerk asked, leaning over the counter. "We got cigarettes... you want a pack?"  
"Uh... no. No, never mind. Just these." Arthur said, snapping out of it.  
Arthur swiped some canned perservessoff the shelves.  
"Ok that'll be $1.10" the owner said.  
Arthur handed him some money, trying desperately to force the ghosts from his mind.  
"That's a cute Miss you got there."  
"Thanks." Arthur replied, not realizing what he just said.  
He left the store and resumed his spot on the balcony by the bath room door.  
Annabel had lowered herself into the bathtub. The room was quiet and small. The hot water felt good on her bones. She adjusted the shaving mirror so she could look at herself. Her eyes had dark circles but it was nothing new. She had been exhausted since the day Arthur sent her away, she'd been working on adrenaline ever since that day. She twisted her arm this way and that to get a better look at the black bruise which had formed. It was no doubt from last night when she fell in the water. She sat on her knees in the tub, and twisted to see her back. She found a rather large bruise there as well. It didn't bother her, but it was good for her to know why her back hurt. She could only assume Arthur was in worse shape.  
She laid back in the tub. Among all the things that were going on, Saint Denis still loomed in the future. Not the law, not seeing the doctor again, but just the unanswered question of whether he was still sick. At times, she felt confident he was cured. He looked it, he acted it, he was stronger every minute. But other times, it seemed too impossible.  
She washed her face and her hair.  
Her thoughts wandered to Arthur and she remembered him pinning down the large Murfee Brood and breaking his face. She'd never seen brutality like that. There had always two sides to him. She supposed that was the case for everything.  
She drifted off a bit. She felt the cold hands of the man from the apartments still on her. She refused to dwell on the altercation, she was worn goods anyway and care little for her physical state. As long as she could leave alive, then what was another man on her? She almost wished Arthur hadn't found her, she could just walk out and pretend nothing happened. At least he wouldn't know. Though it wasn't a guarantee that the man wouldn't have killed her. Arthur had killed at least 5 people in the last 24 hours.  
The thunder snapped her to back to reality. She didn't care, she told herself, despite the tears which ran involuntarily down her face. She washed her face again and got out of the tub. She put on her last dress and hastily left the room, eager to be out of her present head space.  
She was happy to find Arthur waiting for her.  
"Ready to turn in?" he asked, opening the door to the room.  
It was a big enough room with a small enough bed. The fireplace was lit which Annabel was thankful for because the wind outside was cold.  
She sat on the bed, removing her shoes.  
"Annabel...You ok? I mean, is there anything I can do?" Arthur asked awkwardly.  
"No, I'm ok, I promise. Thanks for this."  
Proud women were like that sometimes, Arthur thought to himself. If bested, however depraved or unfair the situation may have been, they preferred to pretend it never happened. Arthur thought of Karen, who over the years had put herself in numerous compromising positions. Karen was tough, clever, and she was also proud. Arthur had not taken Annabel to be a proud women, and it was certainly something else that drover her to move on from the affects of the situation. Either way, he let it be.  
Arthur hung his hat on the bed post and handed her a can of fruit.  
"It ain't much but it was that or salted Offal... And, well, I figured we'd save that for a special occasion."  
Annabel laughed, delighted by any attempt at lightheartedness.  
He took a seat on the floor by the bed.  
"You can lay up here Arthur, it's not that small."  
"No, no" Arthur said surely. "I'm fine down here."  
Indeed, the bed was much smaller than she probably realized, being a small person herself. Besides that, Arthur thought it would be inappropriate to be so close to her after the earlier encounter.  
She sat cross legged on the bed, facing him.  
"You didn't by cigarettes, did you?" She asked, picking at the fruit.  
"What? No." Arthur responded with compunction.  
He was surprised by how keenly she sometimes anticipated his thoughts.  
"Oh good... I hope you don't smoke anymore, it's not worth it." She said, quickly popping the fruit in her mouth as some of the syrup dripped down her hand.  
Arthur's eyes followed her tongue as it traced the length of her hand.  
"Have you smoked for a long time?" She asked.  
"Wha... Smoked? Sure."  
"It's a dirty habit." She said.  
"Well, I don't do it that much... Comparatively." He suggested, mildly ashamed.  
Thunder rumbled close by, and the wind grew stronger, causing the building to creak.  
"Thunderstorms are so frightening." She remarked, as she reached behind her to put the empty can on the night stand.  
Arthur looked away, refusing to steal a look at her stretched out body.  
"Ain't nothing to be afraid of, especially if you're inside."  
He allowed himself to be mesmerized by flames that pleasantly rolled against the firewood.  
"I don't know. Just because you can't see something, doesn't mean it isn't scary. In fact, the things that scare me the most have often been things that I can't necessarily see."  
She thought of the journey ahead of them, rife with unknowns. Was he still sick? Regardless of the answer, would he leave her?  
"I can see a point somewhere in there, sure. Was that what it was like where you came from?" He asked, trying to approach the subject casually.  
She thought for a moment.  
"In some ways, but I would say they were not really that hidden."  
"You've never really talked about it. What was that place?"  
"It was a bad place. Run by a bad man."  
"What'd he do?"  
"I think he sold humans... Not exactly as slaves, but for all types of things. Honestly, I lived there a long time, but I never really knew. It was just the way he ran things. People were too afraid to talk amongst themselves."  
"Why?"  
"Fear can do that to people I guess. He was, oh, I don't remember the word they used... I can't think of it now. But it was normal to see disfigured workers. I saw things like finger nails pulled out, burns, skin somehow removed... He was terribly cruel to them."  
She flicked her finger nails in some physical response to the memory.  
"You know what the scariest thing was though? The way he made people afraid to helped each other. Everyone always looked in the other direction. The unknown torture, and the risk of just disappearing, because people sometimes just died, was so great that no one came together."  
"He did those things to you?"  
"No, not me. I was lucky. I was the upstairs staff... I think a smart man like you can guess what that means."  
"I don't think I would phrase that as lucky."  
"I just got lucky. There were three of us for quite a while. Not very long before I met you, I found myself to be the last of the upstairs workers. The other girl had gotten sick, I never learned the nature of her illness. One day she was just gone, and I knew somehow I wouldn't see her again. That was the thing, if someone became sick or injured, there was no care for them. He never cared for anyone. Often people just died. Well, if things had turned out otherwise, you may have found two of us in that cabin. I wonder."  
She seemed to reflect on that for a moment.  
"What about the other one?"  
"That was many years ago now, that she died. I don't think I ever knew what she had been accused of, but he had put her downstairs with the workers. We called them basement workers, but they worked basically everywhere except upstairs. They hurt her badly and so he left her down there. They were mad, I suppose. They thought she lived a comfortable life, and maybe she did comparatively, but they took their anger out on the wrong person... I'm sure they knew that. But that's what fear does, it makes people into monsters."  
Arthur nodded agreement.  
"I think that is an accurate statement, Miss. Though that is a very empathic way to put it."  
She smiled.  
"I don't know that word."  
"Means your a nice person." He said, though she knew he was over simplifying.  
There was silence for a moment. Annabel resisted the urge to bring up Dutch in relation to the aforementioned statement, her opinions didn't belong here. The reality remained that she had still never learned what became of the gang.  
She took a breath. It was as good a time as ever to breach the topic.  
"Where did everyone go? What happened after you sent me away?"  
He thought to himself for a moment. He didn't want to uproot what had happened after Beaver Hollow. He couldn't possibly come to terms with it and it overwhelmed him. To recount what happened would be to admit it did in fact happen.  
To admit it did happen would be to admit it was all over.  
To admit it was over would mean he had to face the fact that he had no purpose.  
He thought of Rains Falls words.  
"And don't tell me 'bad business' or that you don't know, either. Your body is recovering, but you haven't really come back yet, Arthur. What happened...?"  
Annabel watched him as he searched the ground, the reflections of the flames flickered on his faces like she had seen so many nights by the campfires.  
"The truth is, I don't really know. After you left, it wasn't long before others started leaving. Dutch he was, spinning around and around. Folk started sneaking away. Reverend, Mary-Beth, Karen, lots of folk left. Couldn't blame them."  
"Mrs. Grimshaw?"  
"... She." Arthur sighed.  
He started over.  
"Dutch had gotten out of hand. In Guarma, things really unravelled. He started killing folk in cold blood, like he always said we wasn't going to do. His plans never quit, and Micah..." Arthur's voice descended to a growl.  
She could see the weight in his eyes.  
"Micah was steering him along. I watched Dutch turn his back on me, I would have been dead and gone right then and there had it not been for Rains Fall son. Came and saved me. Died for it later. I later found out he did the same thing to John. I guess it started in Van Horn. Me and Sadie, we rode out to find Abigail. Thinking John was dead at the time. Milton was there..."  
Arthur took a long pause before he dragged his eyes to meet Annabel's. He bore an expression of utter confusion, like he was still trying to understand it.  
"It was here... It was just below us." He pointed down to the general store, his words were soaked in disbelief.  
How could he be so close to yet so far from his old life? From everything he thought he knew?  
"It was here, right in the general store. Milton, he told me it was Micah who talked. Not Molly. Molly never sweat a word."  
Annabel's brow creased. She remembered the night of Molly's confession very well. Why would Molly lie about talking?  
"Abigail shot Milton dead. I went back to Dutch. It was just Javier, Bill and Susan. Plus Micah and two lunatics he towed in. I told him Micah was the rat, I told him everything. Oh, Micah denied it. All them years... all them years and Dutch... couldn't or wouldn't..."  
Arthur combed his hand through his hair, in stress.  
"Anyway, we stood off to each other, Susan was the only one stood by me. When suddenly John came back, he said Dutch left him for dead. Micah shot Susan right then."  
Arthur could still hear Susan writhing on the ground in her final moments. Annabel's mouth dropped open a bit.  
"You know... Dutch didn't even blink an eye. They used to be sweet on each other, Susan and Dutch. Bet you can't picture that. After all them years, he didn't look twice at her when she was shot down by that... rat."  
Annabel almost wished they would stop talking about it. It was hard on him and it was hard to hear.  
"That was that... the Pinkertons came and we split up. I went up the mountain with John. I told him where to find the women. We had to split up. I didn't have it in me anymore by that point. I said I'd hold 'em off."  
Arthur cleared his throat, a cough escaped.  
"I was expecting the Pinkertons but it were Micah who come for us. Well, you saw what happened I suppose."  
"What about Dutch...? Where did he go?"  
"Oh he was there... He stopped me from shooting Micah and he left. They both left. That was that."  
That's how it ended. Dutch left Arthur to die alone on the mountain top. It was why Arthur existed now as a ghost of himself.  
"Did John escape?"  
"As far as I know, he did. Sadie saw to it. I'm pretty confident."  
"We could go find them-!"  
"No, no, no. That's enough for me." He waved his hand dismissively. "I settled it as well as I could."  
"You did everything you could, Arthur."  
"It wasn't me alone."  
Minutes passed in silence.  
The rain continued to spatter the window. She watched his face. She could read every line that creased his brow, every time he bit his lip or clench his teeth. She could see he couldn't tear himself from what had been ingrained in him for so long.  
It's one thing to revel in loyalty when you are safe on the sidelines, but when you fight for your gang with your own fists, and stick your own neck out, it better be a sure thing because you are risking it all. For it to falter would surely mean...  
"You're more than one gang's right hand gun, Arthur."  
He smiled, wearily.  
"That's what I am on the best of days, Miss. What I was. Most days, well, I'm just an outlaw. A crook like many before him."  
It panged her to hear those words from him. To her, he meant so much.  
"Can I tell you something else?"  
"Sure." He said in his way.  
It always made her smile.  
"I think a lot about something you said to me a long time ago. You said 'don't let what people have done to you in the past, dictate your future.'"  
"Well, that may apply to a young lady who-"  
"No, Arthur, just because Dutch broke down and took everything with him, doesn't mean you have to go down with him too. It also doesn't change the fact that you fought to save the people in your gang who relied on you. So they could live outside of the gang. Despite what Dutch had done. So they could have another chance. You can have another chance too, Arthur. What happened then doesn't need to control your future."  
Her faith in him was unwavering. She made it sound possible. It was on him to either take the first step or continue to spin his wheels.  
"You're a strange girl, Miss Annabel." Arthur said, matter-of-factly, straightening his legs and throwing one over the other.  
"As in...?"  
"As in thank you." He said, head resting back against the wall. "For everything."  
Annabel smiled and laid on the bed. She had all but forgotten her encounter earlier that night. She had told Arthur so much of what she wanted to say to him. Maybe some of it even got through to him. There was one more task ahead, in Saint Denis and then she felt she could live happily ever after.


	17. The Road Less Travelled

Chapter 17- The Road Less Travelled  
Arthur awoke to a foggy morning. The fire had burned to smolders. The sky was overcast. Annabel lay asleep facing him, her arm hanging off the side. He reflected on their conversation last night. He hated to feel hopeful only for him to discover he was still sick. Now he understood that the weight that had been pulling on him would never go away. It would have to be left behind.  
"Hey, wake up girl." He said, tugging her hand gently as he stood up.  
She rolled over, ignoring him. Arthur noted the large bruise on the back of her shoulder, visible as the back of her dress dipped a bit. He went to the washing tub to splash his face.  
"You comin' then?" He asked her again.  
"Arthur..." She propped herself on her elbows.  
"What?"  
Annabel didn't know what she wanted to say. She found herself dreading Saint Denis. More and more she lost confidence in what she thought she had accomplished. Once they got there, if they found he was sick still, what then? She wanted to stay in bed, and she wanted him to stay with her.  
"What?" he tried again. "You ok?"  
"Yeah. I'm just tired. Can we wait a bit?" She knew she was just buying time.  
The weight of it all crushed her. She derived a small reprieve by laying in bed, watching him pass time. That was a good reality for now. He examined the gash on his cheek in the shattered mirror of the wash bin. He leaned against the window sill, and peered outside. Her eyes followed him as he sat in the only chair in the room. He pulled out the knife and flipped it around. He was so handsome to her.  
"You even sleeping?" Arthur said, finally noticing her eyes were open.  
There was a second reality that would soon come to fruition, one she had been desperately repressing. Regardless of whether Arthur was well or not, regardless of how close she felt to him...  
She recalled his words.  
'I really don't know what you expect to happen after Saint Denis but I can almost guarantee you will be disappointed, Miss.'  
He would surely part ways with her. He would pawn her off on someone. Especially if he discovered what she'd done there.  
Arthur had walked over, noting the heavy look in her eyes, and sat down on the edge of the bed.  
"Whats wrong?"  
Annabel didn't answer.  
"You thinking about last night?" he asked, his forearms hanging off his knees.  
No answer.  
"Then what? You sick? Take some of that medicine, its good-"  
Annabel shot up, she'd forgotten about the medicine. She cried out frustrated with herself as she scrambled to the bag. Arthur watched her commotion as she rummaged through various jars. She frantically assembled a small mixture within a couple of minutes and handed it over to him.  
It was after that small whirlwind that Arthur suggested they get a move on. The town of Van Horn was still sleeping off it's hangover and it would be best to leave before it awoke.  
They loaded the bag on to the back of Buell and headed down the main street of Van Horn. The town was groggy. People slumped in the streets but were otherwise hidden away in dilapidated buildings. They passed a horse carcass towards the entrance of town, which disturbed Annabel. Looking back on the degraded town, she saw the body of the man who attacked her the night before being dumped out of the window. His body folded over itself as it landed on the roof top below it. There it could very well stay, such was the nature of the town.  
Greenery injected itself into their vision again. For the first time since their trip began, a lone stranger on his tiny horse rode by. Arthur greeted them with a hat tip.  
They rode along in silence. Hands around his waist, Annabel felt her problems were fading, they couldn't keep up with her. The reality was imminent but there was nothing to do but wait.  
The screeching of boars thumping around startled her out of her daze. They tore through the grass and into woods.  
"Did you hear that?" She asked.  
"What? The boars?" He asked tilting his head in order to hear her.  
"No, no, coming from the woods."  
Arthur slowed down so that the sound could come into focus. It was indeed the sound of a man screaming.  
"Let's go see!" She hopped off the horse.  
"Would you just wait, woman!" Arthur tried to grab her arm but she slipped off the horse too quickly.  
"Don't just go running into the woods after sounds, folks set up traps like that." He hissed.  
Annabel considered that as she waited for Arthur to dismount. The screaming intensified.  
"Oh God! My... My leg... Someone!" The frantic voice shouted from the woods.  
"It sounds real to me." She said following closely behind him.  
They arrived upon a man on the ground, bear trap clamped to his foot.  
"Oh God, thank God. Mister, I'm loosing blood fast, please,..." He grunted through rapid breaths.  
Annabel covered her mouth in disbelief. She saw very plainly that the bear trap engulfed his leg, making a bloody mess of his flesh. She could see white bone which had splintered under the pressure. The blood was gushing from his wound every time he moved. Her stomach turned at the gore.  
Arthur got down on one knee, gripping the jaws of the trap, and slowly pulled it apart. It took a great deal of force as the sprung metal was meant to hold a bear hundreds of pounds heavier than man. The man flipped between screams of agony and hyper ventilation as the blood spurted from his wound. Finally, Arthur spread the trap enough to where the man could pull out his leg. The stranger flew back, clutching his thigh. The bear trap snapped shut with a metallic bang.  
"Oh sweet Jesus... Thank you..." The man panted, sweat pouring from under his hat.  
"You going to be ok, there mister?" Arthur asked.  
Annabel watched as he rubbed of his hands sorely.  
"Oh... yeah... I think." the man struggled to reach his bag and pull out some cloth. "Here, take... ugh. There some money in my horses saddlebag. Take it. I wouldn't be alive if you hadn't shown."  
Arthur looked to the spooked horse and went over to it.  
"I can help you with that." Annabel said.  
She took the cloth from the mans shaking hands and began to wrap it tightly above his wound.  
He hung his head back, panting dry breaths.  
"Oh thank you... It feels like it's on fire." He uttered in pain.  
She tied it tightly as Arthur returned to her.  
"Will you be ok?"  
"Oh yeah... I just need to take my time getting back." He struggled to stand up.  
"Ok, fella," Arthur said reaching down to grab the man's arm.  
"Ready? One...two... Three!" Arthur heaved him up to his one leg, the man screamed through the motion, gripping Arthur's arm.  
"Oh ho ho...wow, that hurts!" the man hooted. "Ok, mister, you help me get on my horse, you can take all the ammo, I ain't hunting no more."  
Arthur slug the man's arm around his shoulder and he helped the man hop to his horse.  
"Aw, that's ok. I ain't got a rifle anyway. Besides, it's dangerous out here."  
Annabel watched as Arthur and the injured man coordinated the logistics of hoisting him on his horse. The man grabbed the horn of the saddle and Arthur hoisted him up. It caused him an evidently tremendous amount of pain but it was successful. The man was pouring in sweat at this point.  
"Here," he said, gasping and handing his rifle to Arthur. "Take this too then. No- it's fine, I have a pistol. Just take it."  
Arthur hesitated but took the rifle.  
"Thank you very much..." he said, inspecting it.  
It was a decent rifle and in very good shape. The man must have been a serious hunter.  
"Thank you! Both of you!" He said sincerely. "Oh it's going to be a bumpy ride back..." he began trotting off in the other direction.  
"What?" Arthur asked Annabel who was looking at him with an expression he couldn't place.  
"Oh, nothing. How much money did you get?"  
It wasn't nothing. Annabel had watched him pry open a bear trap with his hands, hoist a man's effectively dead weight off the ground, and then on to his horse. Arthur hadn't broken a sweat, or coughed, or so much as thought of coughing. In fact, in the day light, she could see he looked like himself.  
"Fifteen dollars... no trivial amount." He said, handing it to Annabel. She stuffed it in the bag. "Good call Miss, you saved a man's life."  
"You think so?" She asked pleasantly surprised by the notion.  
"I know so. I didn't hear him and he would have just bled out there."  
"Wow." She thought on that for a moment.  
"Even if I had heard him, I probably would have just robbed him."  
"Such a liar, Arthur!"  
She saw him crack a smile and it caused her stomach to flutter.  
The scenery turned into that of wet land and mud as they trotted along the boards. More riders passed them than every before as they approached the outskirts of the city.  
A pit formed in Arthur's stomach. Annabel had told him that the law will probably assume he's dead but that doesn't mean they wouldn't recognize him if they saw him alive. In Saint Denis the cops weren't exactly tough, but they learned their marks.  
They rode on past the farmland. Annabel watched as they passed the workers in the field. Her mouth was dry and her heart was pounding but her face was still. The blue parlour caught her eye. The blue parlour surrounded by beautiful flowers. Where Arthur had stashed her into a stage coach and sent her away.  
'You can do this.' He had said to her then.  
Words she recalled every day since then.  
She wondered if he realized this was the spot, as the rode by leisurely. If he did, he didn't say anything. During the day, and it being noon, people were sitting about on the many white tables around the back of the property. They were beautifully dressed and seemed very cultured. The type of people she would have seen at Byrant's parties. Smart yet dumb. Rich yet poor. Beautiful yet wretched.  
"Arthur, it's left here." Arthur steered the horse across the road.  
Buell seemed unhappy with the crowds and the noise of the busy area. He hitched the horse across the road from the doctor's office.  
They dismounted and Annabel took the bag from the saddle. Arthur patted Buell.  
"Let's go?" Annabel asked, gathering her hair to one shoulder, combing it with her fingers.  
Arthur didn't answer.  
"Are you ready?" She asked again.  
"No."  
She wasn't either, but it wasn't time for that now.  
"Don't be like that." She forced lightly, as she walked ahead.  
He followed.  
They entered the building. None of it rang familiar to Arthur, even though he'd been there before.  
"Excuse me, madam." He addressed the lady behind the counter. Annabel's heart was beating uncontrollably, she hated this feeling, she wanted it over with.  
"Yes?"  
"I was really hoping to see the doctor, I..." Arthur actually didn't know how he was supposed to approach this.  
"My husband here thinks he's sick." Annabel interjected, rolling her eyes. "His drinking buddy got himself tuberculosis and now this man thinks he's sick, too and won't stop fretting about it. Sure, he's had some coughing but it hasn't been that bad. We travelled here hoping the doctor might see him."  
The lady smiled.  
"Well ok then, just hang on and I'll be right back." She disappeared through a door.  
"Miss Annabel," Arthur said in surprise. "That's quite the yarn you spun."  
"Maybe stop staying up all night drinking." She joked.  
"Unbelievable." He responded, shaking his head.  
The lady emerged from down the hall and lead them in to the office.  
Yes, Arthur thought, the room was familiar to him now. He remembered bringing a man here was who injured. The doctor sawed his arm off. His thoughts were interrupted by the doctor entering the room.  
"Have a seat here," The doctor said. "So you were in contact with someone who had TB? Open your mouth please."  
The doctor examined around Arthur's mouth, prodding with an instrument. Annabel leaned against the wall to stop herself from pacing.  
"You coughing much son?" The doctor asked.  
"Not so much anymore, but I was. Real bad."  
The doctor next examined his eyes. "How bad? Blood?"  
"At one point yes-"  
"But that was weeks ago." Annabel interjected.  
"Weeks ago? And you aren't coughing anymore?"  
"Not really..." Arthur said.  
"Well, that's good news you see, Tuberculosis never 'gets better'. It only stays stagnant for a short while at best and then gets much worse. You don't look sick mister."  
"What if... the infection was killed off, but its still growing?" Arthur asked, unsure of his question really.  
"Well, if we could stop the infection, we'd have a cure so its a moot question." The doctor said hastily. "You don't look sick to me. I've seen people with early TB. If you picked it up yesterday, then fine, I couldn't tell you yet. But if you are here because of coughing fits you had weeks ago, or rather, were at their worst weeks ago, I can tell you tuberculosis is not your problem. I don't know what you had."  
Arthur looked at Annabel, and she to him.  
"Because... like I said, it doesn't get better. It only gets worse..." The doctor shifted his gaze between the two of them, surprised by their lack of positive response. "Its a good thing my boy!" he said, patting Arthur on the shoulder.  
"Sure. Yeah, it is. Thank you." Arthur stood up.  
"And don't go out drinking so much! Enjoy time with your wife!" He said as the two left.  
They left the doctors office and stepped outside into the midday sun. They stood side by side, saying nothing at first. The wagon's rode by, pedestrians walked around them. Arthur looked down to her, and she looked up at him. It was the first step done.  
Arthur had a look of profound disbelief, he searched her face, he was speechless. Suddenly, Annabel burst into a smile and threw her arms around his neck. In turn, his arms wrapped around her entire body, like he'd never held anyone before. Waves of relief, laughter, elation rolled through their bodies as she buried her face in his chest.  
"I can't believe it... You did it..." Arthur said, still holding her. She pulled away from him, her hands folded behind his neck.  
She burst into glee again and threw herself into him once more. He hugged her even tighter that time.  
"Let's go eat! I'm really hungry!" She said, pulling away from him. She had never been so hungry in her life, she thought.  
Her head was absolutely swimming. At once, she had been lifted and restored. She felt like she had awoken from a sleep that had begun when she arrive at Byrants as a child.  
Arthur in turn began to realize that he might actually have a second chance. A chance without gangs, or violence.  
What could it look like, and what should he do.  
"I had forgotten how many people there were here." She mused as they walked together, closer than normal.  
"You mean when you lived with Albert? Is he still here?"  
"He went to Germany for some academic project, I never learned the details."  
Albert did leave for a project at some point, but what she didn't tell Arthur was that yes, his permanent residence was still here. She didn't want to give him any ideas about dropping her off anywhere. In fact, more than ever, she needed to be close to him.  
"But yeah, when I lived here."  
"So did you like living here?"  
"Well, no. For lots of reasons, not just the crowds. It was just a stressful and overwhelming time."  
"I had no idea he lived in Saint Denis. He wrote to me said he could meet you in Annesburg, I just assumed that's where he lived. I'm surprised I didn't run into you here."  
"He was returning from an overseas trip and his ship docked at Annesburg. We stayed there overnight yes. Annesburg is... not a pretty place."  
"No it's not." Arthur glanced behind him, ensuring that Buell had followed.  
They entered a small saloon that Arthur had never been too. It was dimly lit inside, and mildly crowded. This suited Arthur because they would blend in the crowd. They sat in a corner table by a window to eat.  
She could barely taste the food as she ate. She was so starving and far too distracted to notice the taste.  
"I don't think I've ever seen you eat this fast." Arthur laughed.  
"I'll race you." She said, unashamed.  
"You ain't likely to win that one."  
"Oh sure. What could I win against you Arthur Morgan?"  
"I'm sure lots of things, girl, but let's be real, it ain't gonna be eating. Or probably drinking."  
"Well, I've never had a drink in my life so you can have that one."  
"Never?" He said, chewing.  
"No..."  
"Well you ain't missing much. Safe for some head aches. Mild vomiting, perhaps."  
"Why do people like it then?"  
"Well... I guess there are lots of reasons. Usually celebration, sometimes remorse."  
Arthur continued saying something but her attention shifted from his words to his face. His mannerisms, the way he spoke. Years of experience told her that nothing good could come from a relationship between a man and a woman, at least, certainly not for her. Yet she found herself wondering what it might be like to experience them with him. Despite the awful memories she bored from her past, some dormant desire continually attempted to surface. She watched his hands as he spoke, as she often did. She had admittedly had tried to picture those same hands on her, on more than one occasion.  
What it would feel like to be with someone she trusted, someone she was attracted to, someone she wanted to be with. Her mind was never a safe place and she would, every time, return to memories of immoral things she had done in the past. But she would visit the notion time again, regardless. This was one of those times.  
They left the saloon soon after they finished eating. The evening sun cast an orange light over the city. The trolley carts dinged and the hoofs echoed loudly through the narrow streets.  
Annabel increasingly encroached on his space, narrowing the gap between them. She wanted to be close to him. More than ever she felt she needed it.  
"So you spent time in Saint Denis when I was gone?" She asked as they walked side by side.  
"About as much time as anywhere else, really. Let's see... Met some folk, an artist for one. You'da liked him. I think. Maybe not. Bit of a pervert. A nun. Rains Fall, who you met."  
"A nun? Did she try to convert you?" Annabel joked a bit.  
"Nah, she knew better." He smirked.  
His smirk, it dismantled her, she dug her nails into her palms to distract the sensation she felt ignite inside her. It felt like something snapped at that moment. Her nerves were on fire, she wanted to touch him, she wanted him to feel her. Sex had never been pleasing for her, it was shameful and derogative. But she couldn't tell her body that. A longing inside her burned intensely for him, like nothing she'd ever felt before, it made her weak. With every word he uttered, she wanted to catch his mouth. He spoke but she didn't hear.  
Arthur had stopped and pulled out the cash from Van Horn. He licked his thumb as he counted the cash, he was saying something. She swallowed hard, squeezing her thighs together.  
He finally glanced at her, locking into her eyes.  
"...Or not?" he questioned.  
"What?"  
"Get a room for the night?"  
"Oh, of course. Yes."  
They made for the Bastille, one of the nicer saloon's in Saint Denis and frankly, most places Arthur had been to. Annabel grabbed the bag off Buell, before following close behind Arthur.  
The air was filled with delightful piano music, pleasant chattering, plates clattering and people clinking glasses. She saw men enjoying poker while saloon ladies watched them. Single men lined the bar, hollering and drinking.  
"I've never been to a place like this." She said following closely behind Arthur, locking eyes with people who glanced at them as they walked in.  
"Like what? A saloon? Well, you ain't missed much..."  
"You always say that but it depends on who you're with, not where you are."  
Her perception was sweet and bright, a contrast to the sullen attitude he had fostered towards most things over the years. It made him smile, though he shook his head at it.  
"Oh I have an idea! Let's get a drink. You said its for celebrating right? I think this is perfect."  
"Alcohol?" he said smirking. "You trying to get all the bad decisions over in one night?"  
"Yes, I've never tried it, I'm curious. You said it was for celebrating..."  
"Hey, you're a grown woman, if you want a drink, I'll get you a drink."  
They found a two person table close to the edge of the bar and took a seat.  
"What do we get?" She asked, elbows on the table intently.  
"Depends on how drunk you want to get and how fast."  
"Well, that do you get then?"  
"Whisky, usually."  
"Ok, get that then."  
Arthur tipped his hat and walked to the bar. Annabel took in the mood of the saloon. The amount of people reminded her of parties Mr. Byrant would hold. However, these people were here by choice, and not for status. They looked like they were having fun.  
Annabel watched a beautiful woman approached another man. She could pick up the twang in her voice and knew she was being coquettish. The woman had lovely hair and her body was what Annabel thought of as womanly. She had breasts, she had hips, she was beautiful. Annabel's heart sank when she realized the man she was flirting with was Arthur. The lady ran her finger across his broad shoulder blades, prompting him to turn to face her. They were so close in the crowded saloon.  
Her heart pounded, it told her to look away. She felt like a child compared to these girls. They looked like real women, they had confidence and experience. Annabel had enough her fair share of intimate encounters, but somehow she was felt grossly inexperienced.  
The feelings she felt with Arthur were new. She could never imagine wanting someone to do those things to her as badly as she did. Especially given what she knew about how unpleasant sex could be. She watched as the woman pouted and dragged her finger across Arthur's jaw as she walked away, the very essence of bold and pretty.  
Her face was hot with self-hate as Arthur came back with four shot glasses. He placed them on the table.  
"You ready?" he asked.  
Annabel twisted her dress beneath the table, unable to shake the childish feelings of inadequacy.  
"You ok? Did something happen?"  
"No, no... Nothing. Sorry." She took a mental breath.  
Arthur wasn't interested in that lady. The reason, she knew, had nothing to do with her. And whether he wanted to or not was another story.  
"It ain't good." He warned her.  
She sniffed at the drink and before bringing it to her lips.  
"No no-" Arthur said, laughing a bit. "Don't taste it, you gotta pound it back."  
"Wow." Annabel grimaced. "So far I don't like it."  
"Yeah we'll you're smarter than most then."  
Annabel flushed at the compliment.  
"Ok, on the count of three, just shoot it back, try not to taste it."  
It seemed bizarre that she should try not to taste something she was voluntarily drinking but she nodded.  
"One... two...three!" Arthur knocked the drink back easily, his eyes stayed on her as he did.  
She retched at the taste, coughing a bit.  
"Oh, it tastes like fire!" She said, hand on her chest  
"Yeah, I imagine that's a good description." Arthur laughed.  
He watched her brow crease in disagreement with the taste.  
"How much do you need to be drunk?"  
"For you? Probably not much. But let's stick with just two."  
"What about for you then?"  
"A lot."  
"I remember hearing that when you drank, you often got very drunk." She said with some sass.  
He watched as she compulsively combed her hair to the side, before leaning into the tiny table. He noticed the neckline of her dress crease, exposing new skin that was otherwise not visible.  
"Ha, well, that's because I drank a large amount. It's not my tolerance that's the problem, its my will power."  
Arthur confessed, charmingly.  
"Somehow I don't believe that..." She said quietly.  
"Ok..." He started, "Let's finish this and get a room."  
Annabel sat up straight, ready to try again. Arthur counted down and they both knocked back the shot.  
This time Arthur couldn't contain his laugh, as Annabel flew back in her chair, waving her hand over her neck.  
She gagged a bit, though she couldn't help but smile at entertaining him.  
"Its terrible!" She confessed, slamming her hands on the table which caused little in the way of dramatic effect.  
She watched as Arthur rubbed the scruff on his face, flashing his teeth in smile.  
"You're terrible, also Arthur."  
"Well," He said getting up from the table, "I did try to warn you."  
She followed his lead as he approached the bar. Her eyes trailed off again to the other women in the saloon. She watched as they hung over other men. Men much less attractive than Arthur, according to Annabel. She wondered why they would put themselves in these situations.  
Arthur lead her upstairs. She was captivated by the beautiful building, the music and the atmosphere.  
"Lock the door," He reminded her as he walked her to the bath door. "Our room is that one there."  
She nodded and closed the door behind her.  
The room was warm and steamy. It was came as no surprise that it was a much more lavish bath than the one at Van Horn. She took off her dress, attempting to shake the dust off of it a bit before throwing it over the chair.  
The warmth enveloped her. She thought of him. She shifted in the bathtub, restlessly clinging to her knees, then uncomfortably stretching her legs out. She still felt the heated pulsing need inside of her. A need for him. Frustrated, her hand found its way between her thighs. She'd never felt this type of vexation, she'd never in her life felt the need to touch herself. The physical touch of men had never brought her anything good, and had caused a negative association with all things sexual. Until she saw Arthur. Her inexperienced hand slid in between her legs, unsure of what she wanted to accomplish or how it would happen.  
The whisky worked on her head, she felt light and dizzy. She closed her eyes. It was Arthur's hand after all, not hers. In the blackness of her mind she tried to focus on his face, on what he might do. The faces of other men bombarded her vision. Though she tried, she couldn't see past them as they grabbed at her. She shook her head and focused harder to picture his face, his hands.  
His hands. Finally she could feel them, his fingers on her skin, leaving scorching nerves as they travelled down her body. She could feel his lips press against her mouth, unlike anything she had ever experienced. She could have him in her head.  
Suddenly and violently, she felt her head pulled back, and two hands pry open her jaw as she's fed an all too familiar taste.  
The back of her head hit the tub wall as she slipped under the water. She grabbed the edge of the tub and pulled her self up gasping, and choking on water.  
It wasn't Arthur anymore. She simply couldn't fight the images that replayed in her mind.  
What a colossal failure, she thought, wiping the water from her face. She wasn't safe in her mind. She never was. Her head rested on the side of the tub, eyes wide in a stare that lasted minutes. Her mind was now filled with the countless perverse things she'd done in the past. Her gaze drifted to the complimentary bottle of wine beside the mirror and the wash cloths. She made a note to bring it back to the room with her.  
Back to the room. Yes, it was time to go.  
She got out of the tub, drying off. She took a moment to look at herself in the mirror, gloomily, as she tried to ring the water out of her hair. She hadn't intended to get her hair wet, and it added to her annoyance.  
In the spur of the moment, she went for the wine bottle. She couldn't say what made her do it, but she took a big drink. It was far more pleasant than the whisky.  
Arthur ruffled his damp hair with his hand, attempting to shake the last of the water from it, as he opened the door to the room. He was surprised to find Annabel already in the room, sitting cross legged on the bed.  
"You were quick." He said, closing the door and locking it behind him. "Also, you should lock the door if you're alone."  
She didn't answer.  
His brow furrowed as kicked off his boots. He noticed the opened bottle of wine near the bed.  
"You getting into the sauce woman? You'll regret that tomorrow." He said lightly.  
Annabel said nothing.  
Arthur became very aware of her change in tone. Under almost any circumstance, it took Annabel seconds to cheer up from just about any emotional state yet she hadn't said a word since he walked in.  
"What's wrong?" he asked, attempting to conceal his concern.  
He placed his hat and vest on a chair.  
"Did someone-"  
Before he could finish his sentence, Annabel had pressed her lips hard against his with everything she had. Her arms had locked around his neck, as she stretched on her toes to meet his mouth. In surprise, Arthur staggered backwards, his hands secured around her ribs. He gently tried to push her away.  
His hands burned through her dress, as if his touch soaked through her. Her heart ached at him pushing her away. She fought it. Her kiss deepened against his slightly parted lips, she pressed her body against his powerful torso, begging not to be ignored.  
He felt her breasts pressed up against his chest and her grip tighten around his neck. He could taste the alcohol on her lips but her smell was intoxicating. He opened his mouth in a wave of heated participation. He had to taste her. He hated himself for it and he knew better.  
Elated, she could never imagine another human could taste so good. She felt his tongue briefly brush her lips, sending her nerves into waves of heat, her legs getting weak, a relentless pulsing between them.  
He felt her sink a bit against him. She was drunk, or partly, she was vulnerable girl to begin with. He was nothing, he was an outlaw, she had him mixed up with a saint. On top of that, the world was a painful place, surely she knew that.  
And lastly, he was sick. What was she thinking.  
The latter realization snapped him out of it. He forcefully pulled her away, startling her. The kiss had only lasted a couple of seconds. She felt her sides burn where his hands had grasped her.  
"Are you dim woman!?" He said angrily. "I'm sick!"  
For a second they stared, neither knowing what to say. Annabel could feel the trail of nerves on her lips that his tongue had set on fire. Her heart pounded.  
"You're not!" She begged hopelessly, wishing he would stop saying that.  
"Annabel..." His tone softened. "You're drunk."  
"A little." She confessed.  
But she knew the alcohol hadn't dulled her senses, it just made her bolder.  
Annabel untied the string at the bust of her dress.  
"Cut it out." Arthur said sternly.  
Her heart pounded. She didn't care what happened to her, or if he forgot her the next day, but she couldn't end tonight on rejection. Her head swam even more, it felt so hot in the room. She slipped her shoulder out of her dress.  
"Hey- I said stop!" Arthur took a step towards her and grabbed her wrist in a firm grip. Her breath caught in her throat, startled.  
He stared down at her. He wanted her face back, against everything he knew better of, he wanted to consume her. Her wide eyes fixed on him, unguarded, like they often were. In a strong and swift motion, he grabbed her chin and kissed her roughly. He was infuriated with her. But most of all, he was infuriated with himself.  
He coaxed her mouth open with an effortless tilt of his mouth. She presented no challenge, parting her lips to let his tongue in. Her center was on fire, her head spinning, she was in ecstasy. His hand slipped from her chin to the back of her neck from where he strongly brought her into him. She let him in entirely, lapping her tongue against his, she felt his scruff against her face. He released her wrist finally and his hands travelled down the length of her sides, landing on her hips. His hands left a trail of burning longing down her body, and her breath left her. She turned her head from the kiss, to catch her breath, her chest slowly heaving.  
It was an unbearable type of want, one she never knew existed.  
His teeth grazed her jaw as he kissed her face down to her neck. His mouth sank around her skin, her knees weakened, her eyes fluttered. She gripped his shoulders, she was powerless against the waves of emotions that washed over her.  
Her skin was soft against his lips, despite the goosebumps that had formed. He brought his hand around to gather her hair out of his way, then finding the shoulder of her dressed he slid it off, and did the same to the other side. Her lips had found his mouth again and invited him back in. His jaw swept over her lips and his tongue plunged inside her, a moan escaped her lips.  
She slid her arms out of her dress, then wrapping them around Arthur's neck as he pulled the dress down to her waist, revealing her breasts in the flickering firelight of the room. Her head was full of stars, the taste of his mouth was the only reality she cared of. She undid the top buttons of his shirt as her teeth gently bit and kissed his scarred chin.  
He removed his shirt quickly, before coming back to her mouth. He devoured her again, his rough hands tracing up her sides until thumbs collided with her breasts. A gasp caught in her throat, she squeezed her thighs together in a restless fidget. She had no idea what to do with these wild sensations. She pressed her body against his chest.  
His skin felt so good against hers.  
Arthur hiked up her dress and lifted her up effortlessly, before laying her on the bed. He slid her dress off before climbing between her legs and resting above her, returning to the kiss. She couldn't imagine what was next, she was almost sick with longing, she groaned pleading with some part of him.  
She felt his lips trail down her neck, down her chest, as he enclosed his mouth around her breast, causing her back to arch and a gasp to escape her lips. Her fingers dug into his shoulders and she could feel his muscle ripple under her hands. She never felt so safe and so vulnerable. He was tearing her apart with his mouth alone.  
The pulsing between her legs intensified, she grinded against him. She felt his erection against her thigh and nearly passed out when he groaned against her breast.  
Arthur knew he was taking this too far, every part of him told him to lay off of her. Her skin against his tongue, the way she melted into everything he did to her, the sound of her moans, he couldn't stop. He could only consume. It had been so long and he didn't remember it feeling like this.  
Annabel had slipped from under him. He sat up, following her intention. He watched her as she undid his belt, settling on her knees in between his strong thighs.  
He watched her gentle face as she flipped her hair to one side of her shoulder and unbuttoned his pants.  
This is wrong, he reminded himself. His mouth slacked slightly as he took her in. This was wrong but his tired chastity was dimming and a throbbing urge told him to shut his mouth.  
As she undid his pants, her gaze trailed up his stomach, which was strongly defined with muscle folded over muscle. Her eyes fell upon a scar she never knew he had. Then her eyes lifted to his broad chest and the bullet hole badge she'd ran her fingers over numerous times before. Then to his neck where she caught his adam's apple flex as he swallowed hard and then to his sharp jaw wherein sat his l, slightly parted.  
Something about the way she looked at him, he could never place it. He saw it often and he saw it again at that moment. His heart pounded in his chest.  
"Wait... This, we gotta stop." The words escaped his mouth, yet he couldn't believe he managed it.  
Her mouth fell open slightly, her hands still gripping the waist of his pants.  
"This ain't right." He cupped her hands and removed them from his pants.  
"What... do you mean?" She managed, still on her knees.  
"You know what I mean, don't pretend you don't."  
He wasn't sure if that made sense even to him. He dropped his head in his hand, his arousal still throbbing in protest.  
"No... I don't. Arthur, what? Tell me?"  
There was a certain desperation in her voice. Like they'd be married for years and she never saw it coming.  
"What?!" She exclaimed, with heightened emotions.  
"Annabel..."  
He stood up and brushed past her. He stuffed his hand down his pants to adjust his erection, hoping it would just cooperate and go away.  
"It ain't right because you're drunk for one thing and because of your past."  
She stood up. Her hair partly concealing her breasts, her small drawers exposing her hip bones. His gaze fell to the small gap between her thighs, and a terrible scarring along the inside, before he forced his eyes away.  
"So that IS it." She began.  
Of all the people in the world, she had dreamt he would be the one to see past it all.  
"It's because I'm a whore."  
Arthur gawked for a second. But before he could say anything, Annabel continued.  
"Of course it is. You know how much time I spent on my back. You know because you've seen it!" She screamed and pushed against his chest, though he didn't move an inch.  
Arthur was speechless.  
"Hang on, now, that was not what I meant!"  
"No, it was Arthur, and you've been thinking it since you met me, I know you have! I know because I can tell, I can always tell that people know! I know they know!" She was all but hysterical.  
"No, let me..."  
"You know how many men have been on me and why would you EVER touch someone so used up when you have someone like Mary!" She was coming undone.  
Her dark mind was pulling her in, back to where she belonged. The elated feelings she was wrapped in moments ago were a far away dream, one that she had to experience to realize she didn't deserve.  
"What? Mary? What is this, what are you talking about?" Arthur said, his dumbfoundedness attaining new heights.  
Her head was pounding now, her heart was pumping so hard she thought she might faint. She'd never felt this type of hopelessness.  
"Why would you stoop to my level when you are in love with someone like her." She said finally, throwing her arms against her side.  
She never even knew Mary. But she was running on fumes of miserableness.  
"This has nothing to do with a relationship that ended a long time ago."  
He watch her pick her dress up from the ground.  
She slipped her legs through, her vision turned dark. Her head hurt so much, it was a stabbing pain behind her eyes that was causing flashes to clap before her.  
Arthur's voice sounded so far away, she couldn't hear what she said as she slipped her arms in her dress, her face hot with shame and self hate.  
"Answer me!" He said.  
Annabel was still for a moment, before her eyes rolled to the back of her head, and she slumped forward. Arthur grabbed her well in time before she hit the ground. She hung over his arm, out cold. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the exhaustion or the overflow of emotion but she was out.  
The room was now silent. The jovial piano tune floated faintly from downstairs.  
He pulled the blankets from the bed and laid her down. He sat on the edge of the bed, and dragged his hands over his face.  
"Christ..." he groaned.  
If someone had asked him what the problem was, he wouldn't know where to start.  
He sat on the sofa in the room. He certainly wasn't going to lay with her. He leaned back. Watching her sleep. Why had she even been drinking? What happened since he left her? He would probably never know. Her way of thinking was self-sacrificial, if something happened, she certainly wouldn't run and tell him.  
He wanted a cigarette badly.


	18. Revelations

Chapter 18: Revelations  
Annabel's ears were awake before she was the next morning. She could hear the carriages in the street and someone yelling outside. She forced her eyes open, despite her aching head. She hoisted herself up and gave the room a chance to come into focus. The sun streamed in and she was alone.  
No Arthur.  
She walked up to the wash basin and rinsed her face. She got the short end of every straw she pulled last night. Now she was hung over, she was rejected by Arthur and she remembered every bit of it.  
Everything. She remembered him stopping her. She remembered the feeling of his lips, and his rough hands on her skin. Her eyes weld with tears. Everything with Arthur was a different type of pain, a different type of struggle than she was used to. In so many ways it was worse than anything she had experienced before. She pressed her hands against her face in an attempt to perk up her heavy features. She quickly fixed some medicine for Arthur and placed it in a little tin, which she kept in her hand for the time being. She tied her dress up and grabbed her bag before leaving the room to find him.  
The sun streamed in through the saloon's ornate windows and she collided with a groggy yet giggling bar maid and her partner in the hallway. They bumped her as they passed, barely noticing her. She made her way down the stairs, noting the vacant and beautiful piano, sleeping until its next show.  
"Miss Annabel?" The barkeep called to her.  
"Yes?" She said confused.  
"Your partner wanted me to tell you to wait here, I have breakfast for you if you're interested, already taken care of."  
She walked over.  
A man had fallen sleep face first into the floor, and a bar hand nonchalantly swept around him.  
Annabel sat, waiting for the bar keep to return. He brought her oatmeal and water.  
"You'll feel better with some good food in ya!" He said cheerily, probably noticing her dishevelled appearance.  
She smiled somewhat. She ate slowly, staring at nothing.  
"You ok Miss?" He asked, concern was his under tone.  
"Mmhm." She said stirring her food, largely unresponsive.  
"That your mister you was with?" he asked, which surprised Annabel.  
But she shook her head no, however monotonously.  
"... Are you ok then? Do you need help is what I'm asking?"  
She looked up at him. He wore concern in his face and Annabel realized he was asking her if she was being kidnapped or worse.  
"Oh! No, no. I'm sorry, I didn't understand the question. I'm fine, thank you, we're together yes."  
"Oh ok, Miss, just makin' sure."  
Annabel finished eating.  
She could feel the energy return to her. It was energy that was sucked from her in a way she never thought possible the night before.  
What would she do when she saw him? When was he coming back?  
Suddenly, her heart felt as though it lept from inside her. It banged vehemently in her chest.  
Had he left her?  
A wave of panic washed over her. She gasped, clutching her chest.  
He took his chance. He had arranged for her to stay and eat in order to buy him time. He slipped from her grasp, and knowing she was safe in Saint Denis, he left. She stumbled to her feet, her mouth was dry as she grabbed her bag and made for the exit.  
"Miss, you're supposed to wait!" The bar keep called to her, but she barrelled out the door.  
The sun hit her hard, the hangover causing stabbing pains against her temples. It was a hot day, the hottest it had been since they began their travels. She squinted in the bright white light. There were people everywhere. Buell wasn't there. He took the horse, of course he did. He was out of Saint Denis by now, surely he knew how to disappear.  
She had to make her way out of the city, there was nothing here for Arthur and she knew that he wouldn't stick around. He wouldn't go back to Roanoke, so she might as well head West. She spun around. She couldn't gather herself to figure out how to get out of the city. She bumped shoulders with a finely dressed lady who scoffed angrily towards her. Her husband pretending to care.  
She heard the train. If she could find the train station, she could at least figure out which way West was from where she stood. That would be a start. She tried to force her way through the crowd. Her heart felt like it would explode from her chest so much so that she even felt winded.  
As she turned a corner, Annabel collided hard with a big yet finely dressed older man. The look of the man frightened her. He was older, with a big beard that was turning white in his maturity. He reminded her of Byrant, his terrible condescending look as he glared down at her. She collided so hard, she fell back against yet another person. She felt like a child. She felt the firm hands of the man she fell against enclose over her shoulders.  
"Excuse us, sir." Arthur's voice rang above her.  
She looked up, his hat, shielding the sun from her like an eclipse. The old man decided better of giving attitude, likely at the size of Arthur and continued past them, though annoyed.  
Everything slowed for Annabel, she turned to face Arthur. The blood calmed through her veins, causing her limbs to go numb. But her head still pounded incessantly.  
Arthur watched the man go before he looked back to her.  
"Where the hell are you going?" He hissed, angrily.  
"I...I thought" The adrenaline promptly dissipated and though she had just woken up, she wanted to sleep again.  
She didn't want to say she thought he'd left her. She didn't want to give him ideas.  
"I was going to find you." She said.  
Arthur didn't believe that was the whole truth but he let it go. He could see she was run down.  
"Fine. Did you eat then?"  
"Yeah I did, I feel much better."  
"Good."  
Annabel remembered the tin she had clutched in her sweaty palm. She opened it and gave it to Arthur, her hands still a bit shaky.  
"Gah." he reacted unimpressed. "Tastes like sand."  
"Good news is, that's probably the last bit you have to take." She smiled gently. "What time is it?"  
"It's close to 9, I think."  
"Ok, lets go to the doctor's office. We can be in and out fast."  
Arthur agreed. He mounted Buell, who snorted loudly, then hoisted Annabel up behind him. She presumed they weren't going to talk about last night.  
They rode down the streets, Annabel directing Arthur this way and that. She felt sick with anticipation. Since the day Arthur had stuffed her in the carriage it had been nothing but stomach twisting days. Finding a medicine that had a chance to work in time, locating him, tending to his recovery, convincing him to come to Saint Denis, and now finally being here.  
The doctor's office revealed itself as they turned the corner. It was a smart looking building. Not overly advertised, but academic in nature.  
Arthur hitched Buell, who stomped at the ground. Arthur patted him in attempts to comfort the beast as Annabel grabbed the bag from the saddle.  
They entered the building.  
As his eyes adjusted to the light, Arthur could see numerous accolades and diploma's hung and framed on the entry wall.  
"Annabel?" A friendly female voice called to her from behind a desk. Annabel walked over greeted back. A lady stepped around the desk and grabbed Annabel's hand in a friendly manner, a welcoming smile across her face.  
"This must be Arthur!" She said, somewhat surprised as she gave him a healthy once over.  
"Ma'am...Or, uh, doctor?" Arthur tried.  
"No no, I'm his secretary. But I'll let him know you two are here! We were talking about you the other day, wondering if we'd see you again." She disappeared down the hall.  
Annabel breathed a shaky exhale that caught Arthur's attention. He was nervous but he didn't want to let it on for her sake. It was obvious that she was on the edge and last night had been such a disaster.  
"Ah there she is! She's returned and with the guest of honour!" A voice called from down the hall. A tall and slender gentleman wearing a white doctor's coat came down the hall.  
Arthur watched as the doctor held her in an embrace, maybe a little longer than Arthur thought was necessary. He gave the doctor a once over.  
"This is he? Good to meet you sir!" The doctor reached out his hand. "Doctor Ranlow!"  
Arthur shook his hand in return.  
"It's a pleasure doctor."  
"Well this can't be... I'm truly amazed. He stands tall, and not decrepit in the least."  
The doctor toured around Arthur.  
"No inflammation in the skin or the eyes."  
Arthur shifted a bit uncomfortably.  
"So my medicines may have worked... Let us get this examination going then! This way my boy!"  
Arthur glanced at Annabel who urged him along.  
They entered an examination room, where Arthur was directed to sit in a chair. The big windows soaked everything in bright white light. The light illuminated the mild swelling around Annabel's eyes, indicating she had been crying. He also saw a small but evident black bruise on her neck which he knew immediately he had caused the night before. He was relieved when she twisted her hair to her shoulder and concealed it, seemingly unaware.  
"First off, as I get ready, could you describe to me, your symptoms? I want to hear it from your mouth." The doctor puttered around, grabbing various instruments.  
"I don't really have any right at this moment... but before, well I was sure I was gonna die. I was always out of breath, I was coughing blood regularly. I was bruising everywhere. There were times when it was impossible to breath."  
Arthur stared into the void. He felt his chest tighten at the mere memory of his torturous symptoms.  
"And now...Nothing?"  
"Sometimes a tightest I guess, sometimes a cough, but everyday I feel it less and less."  
The doctor started with normal examination measures. He listened to Arthur's heartbeat, he listened very carefully at his lungs. He took care to examine his eyes. He examined his mouth and took swabs to look for blood in his throat.  
"Are you losing weight Arthur?"  
"Not anymore."  
"Annabel, did you use everything I gave you?"  
"Just like we talked about. The syringes and then some herbs from... Well from some friends."  
Arthur looked around. So it was here she spent the time they had been apart. The books lining the shelves, those were the ones she referred to. He was indebted to this man as well as Annabel.  
Annabel seemed nervous. She couldn't relax and Arthur picked up on it easily.  
"Ok, Mr. Arthur," he sighed, leaning against his desk. "Frankly I'm shocked. I wish I could have seen you before because I almost can't believe you were in the state our dear Annabel describes you in. I will run two tests."  
He began priming a thin needle.  
"These are standard tests for TB. Neither are 100% but I think if they both report clear, we can safely assume that, along with your improving symptoms, that the bacteria is cleared from your body. Though I would continue the use of medicine for many months. May I have your arm."  
Arthur obeyed and the doctor injected a small amount of liquid into his arm. The doctor took his other arm and extracted a vile of blood.  
"Just wait a moment." He said as he took the blood to his desk to begin examining it beneath his microscope.  
Arthur watched Annabel who had her eyes nervously fixed on the doctor on the other side of the room. Minutes passed. He noticed her dig her nails into her palms.  
More minutes passed.  
"Alright," Ranlow came around the counter again."My dear, I think we did it."  
Her face lite up.  
"I THINK we did it, you see!" he tried to calm her. "Its very hard to detect via microscope but any bacteria at all should be at least mildly detectable and yet I see none. Its not the best test though because of the latent forms of TB as you know. Regardless, it looks clear."  
Annabel clapped her hands together excitedly as the doctor hugged her again kissing her on the cheek.  
"Yes I can't believe it either! I will send this off to my partner to look at anyway and we shall see if anything else come from it. Also, let us see here..." He looked at Arthur's arm where he had inserted the first needle.  
"Yes, perfect, see, no reaction from the serum. The skin test has returned negative. Again, that's a positive sign. This is truly ground breaking for my practise and medicine as a whole! Congratulations Arthur, you are a lucky man!"  
Arthur was in disbelief.  
"Look, I would continue the medicine for oh, three months. We want to make sure nothing is holding on. In the meantime, if he is latent, then it is not contagious and the medicine will still do its work, so either way you see, it should be covered!"  
"I can't believe it!" Annabel said, pressing her palm against her forehead.  
"Nor can I, but... here it is. Arthur my boy, you have been a subject that will drive medicine for some time to come I think."  
"Thank you Doctor," he said, sitting up and shaking his hand. "Maybe keep my name out of it, though."  
"Certainly. Annabel, my dear, I should like to record some information from you. I should like to get this done tonight."  
Annabel nodded.  
"An account of every herb you used and the distilled quantities, if you can recall them? I would note every single thing, though I suspect the syringes were the driving force. I will create a paper and send it to my colleagues. We should be able to begin testing within the year. Will you be ready to leave tomorrow?"  
Arthur shot a look her way, but she avoided eye contact.  
"Where you two headin'?" He asked.  
After a second of silence, the doctor looked up, somewhat surprised that Annabel hadn't answered the question.  
"Why, Annabel has offered to take me to visit Nicholas Byrant, up in the Northern part of West Elizabeth. In question of a grant, I hope anyway. Well, we have other stops planned along the way too. It should be a much welcomed break."  
"And why would you be heading to see him?"  
"Annabel knows him. Why you must also know him, given your relation?"  
"What?"  
"Arthur, wait outside. I have to go over some things and I'll meet you outside."  
"Actually, Annabel, I have some questions..."  
Annabel pushed him towards the door with all the urgency her body could muster.  
"I'll meet you out there." She said between clenched teeth.  
Her mysterious behavior aside, Arthur walked down the hall in a daze. Could he safely say he belonged on this earth again? There was no point in wondering why him of all people was afforded another chance. Like Rains Fall said, there are no answers. He felt whole-heartedly undeserving, and that may never change.  
He sat in the waiting room, his head leaned back against the wall, he closed his eyes.  
"How did it go Mr. Arthur?"  
Arthur startled.  
"Fine, fine. Thank you." He opened his eyes, not sure how long he was resting them for.  
"So, you're well then?" She came leaned on the front of the desk.  
She was an intelligent woman, well dressed and well spoken. Apparently she also knew his story.  
"It appears so." He said, the disbelief stained his tongue.  
"Wow.. the times we live in. I remember when Annabel came in here, she told us about you, she was a wreck. We sent her away, but she came back again. Did she tell you?"  
"Nah. Not really." Arthur smiled.  
He wasn't surprised. She was hard to deter.  
"What'd she do?"  
"She just came back here crying and begging Dr. Ranlow to help her because oh, her cousin was so very sick and she'd do anything to cure him. She said she knew a bit about medicinal herbs, and with the right doctor she knew she cure you. We were extremely skeptical when she mentioned Tuberculosis, such an intense sickness, but maybe they really did figure it out. They make a good team, I think."  
Arthur's gaze froze.  
"Cousin..."  
"You two must be very close, she wasn't letting you go without a fight."  
Arthur's brow furrowed. He looked down the hall, wondering how long she'd been in there.  
"I guess I'll be seeing more of you around here, Mr. Arthur. Well, since they'll be married soon, and you two seem so close..."  
"What?"  
"I hope I'm not being too forward, but is there... Do you..."  
"I'm just gonna go check on her." Arthur said, tipping his hat politely.  
At the same moment, Annabel rounded the hallway corner.  
"Sorry to keep you waiting, we can go now. What is it?" She asked, in regard to his suspicious expression directed towards her.  
But she knew what it was.  
They emerged onto the quiet street. It was mid afternoon by this time. Buell kicked his head impatiently.  
"We did it Arthur..." she said, looking to the ground.  
His silence rang in her ears.  
"What's this trip you're going on?"  
"That's a weird way to say thank you..."  
She shot him a sideways glance.  
"And why'd you tell them I was your cousin? What are you not telling me?"  
"It's simple... If I said you were an outlaw I just met, I dont think they would have cared so much. I wanted to get their attention."  
Arthur would have bought that easily. He would have even suggested it himself. No one would help save the life of a criminal, except her. But the look on her face and the hesitation in her words left blanks in her story.  
"So what, you said you'd marry him?"  
"What? How did you know that?!" She snapped.  
"The goddamn woman in there said it! What are you thinking girl! What is all this?"  
"I don't really want to marry him, obviously. I just said I would so he would help me..."  
"And this trip to Byrant's? That's your old homestead, so what, you are heading back?"  
"What do you care." She folded her arms.  
"Eh? It's a terrible place, you told me yourself. Why are you bringing him there?"  
"It's none of your business but it's because Byrant is a very rich man. I told Nicholas that I knew him, and that I could guarantee him a donation from Byrant. I left a lot of things out, but because I knew specific details about Byrant, it was easy to convince him. That was actually my original barganing chip. "  
"The marriage was just a bonus?" He snarked.  
"What do you care? You want nothing to do with me, you've made that perfectly clear."  
He scoffed and peered down the cobbled street at nothing in particular.  
"Doesn't mater, that marriage will never happen. As soon as I get back to Byrant, I won't be leaving with that doctor. No one was going to help me unless I made it worth their while and I couldn't let you die! I didn't care Arthur. It was to save you."  
"This is unreal..."  
"If Karen or Tilly had done it..."  
"Oh, no. No, dont event try that! It wasn't safe when they went around seducing men, either. In fact, it was goddamn foolish. Why did they even tell you that? You're too impressionable."  
"I don't care about those things, it was an easy exchange to me. It was worth it." She continued.  
"If you don't care then why did you hide it?" He challenged.  
"Because I didn't want to lose you. And I didn't want you to leave me behind. I wanted to go with you. But after last night, I know for sure that you want nothing to do with me." She admitted brazenly.  
"You have got to be kidding me." Arthur hung his head back.  
"It's true though, isn't it? You feel bad because I saved you, so you don't want to admit it. It's fine." She said, though her glassy eyes said otherwise.  
"You're feelings for me don't change how I feel about you Arthur. I would do this all over again, even knowing how you feel."  
He held his eyes closed for a moment. Her heighten emotions were becoming too much for him.  
"I wanted to save you because the only thing worse than living without you was you not living at all. I love you so much, Arthur." The words slipped out but she didn't care.  
He knew better. She was confused, he thought. She was careless, unpredictable and mixed up.  
"You are confused Annabel." He said, words which broke her heart.  
"I'm not." She said firmly. "You are the one whose confused. You're in denial. You're in denial that you're alive. You're in denial that you're more than an outlaw, and you're in denial that I've loved you for a long time."  
"If you ain't confused then you sure are naive." He knew was a bastard to say that, but the words came out all the same.  
She closed her eyes tight. She felt like she could die right there.  
"I'm setting this straight. You ain't going back to that house, it's foolish" Arthur went for the door.  
Annabel clammoured in front of him, pushing him away from the door.  
"No! Arthur!"  
"Move now, woman!"  
"You might need him later!" She pushed hard against him, but he reached around her, causing her to scream in frustration.  
"Hey!" Someone called from down the road.  
"Hey you! Get off of her! Get off her now!"  
They both froze.  
"Police! Hey Police! Over here, there is a crime!" the stranger yelled, waving his hands.  
They looked at each other for a moment. Without the need for words, they both tore down the road.  
Under no circumstances could the law get a good look at Arthur. He could hear the police whistle and just make out two lawmen round the corner before the two of them disappeared down another road.  
They turned this way and that, trying to lose them. They ran into the market square where there was a crowd of people. They stood amongst the people, glancing over the crowd.  
"Do you see them?" Annabel panted, stretching to see above the crowd.  
The sun was sweltering.  
"No... I don't think so. Wait.." He said hunching down a bit.  
Five or so lawmen gathered outside of the market. They seemed to be collaborating and two of them entered the market square, while three more made off in another direction.  
"Two coming this way." He whispered.  
Annabel pulled his arm and the made their way to the other exit of the market square. Arthur glanced over his shoulder. He couldn't see law, they'd lost him. He bumped into Annabel by accident and in the same moment, realizing she had bumped into a lawman. The lawman stood in riposte, just processing the collision. Arthur's muscles tensed as he prepared to either throw a punch or run away.  
"Oh," Annabel forced a small laugh. "I am so sorry, sir." She said, gently brushing away at his chest, as if to straighten his uniform.  
"I apologize, I'm so embarrassed!" She touched the man's chin playfully.  
The lawmen blushed violently, a goofy tooth bearing smile came over his face.  
"Have a nice day sir." She said, as pleasantly as she could manage.  
He was harmless, standing there gooning as she walked by. Arthur followed and they turned the corner.  
They came to a deserted work yard and hid behind a fence. She had picked up a little too much from Karen, Arthur thought, but at least it was only a smile she flashed that time.  
Annabel peered through the slots between fence posts, looking for any trailing lawmen. Arthur slumped to the ground. A lot had happened in the last couple hours. He learned he was cured. He learned Annabel was playing fiancee with the doctor in order to fabricate a cure for him. He learned she loved him. He learned he...  
"No sign." She reported after some silence.  
He remained quiet.  
Arthur knew that she put herself in a bad situation, and however misguided it was, she did it for him. He was convinced she had risked her life for someone who didn't deserve it and that surely he couldn't live up to the expectations she'd formed of him. The fact that she hadn't yet figured that out by herself made it worse. He wanted her to decide on her own that he wasn't worth this. And yet...  
"So, what exactly did you do with our doctor friend?" Arthur had to ask, despite his attempts to drop it.  
He didn't want to ask but he couldn't stop himself.  
"Not what you think-"  
"Enough, Annabel. Enough of being vague and enough of these half stories." He said sharply, catching her off guard.  
"I told him I'd marry him!" She responded quickly.  
"For Christ... You know that's what I'm asking you. Did you.."  
"No... It didn't come to that." She felt cornered but her voice stayed calm somehow.  
"Right. And what if it had? Did you even think of that? He could have done dozens of things to you and no one would have even known where you were."  
"What does that even matter? It didn't happen. Besides what do I care about that at this point?"  
She was getting agitated, he was pushing her too hard.  
"After everything you been through, the fact that you can entertain this type of risk is just unreal, woman."  
She became defensive, clenching her hands into fists.  
"Ok Arthur. You want to know what would have happened if he wanted that? I would have done it. That's what would have happened."  
Arthur grimaced at her.  
"And then I would have left to find you, just the same. It would have changed nothing. These things mean nothing to me, Arthur. They're nothing compared to how badly I wanted you back. You just don't understand!"  
She voice shook but she pressed her nails into her palms to keep from crying.  
"This is the problem, Annabel."  
"What is, Arthur? Please tell me what my problem is this time."  
"Well, you're delusion, first of all. You don't know anything about me yet you're running blind into these chancy situations so that-"  
"How can you even say that to me at this point?" She almost begged.  
"You say it means nothing to you, but I know it does. I see it on your face all the time. You act like it don't bother you girl, but no one's buying it. How do you expect me to believe that?"  
"I kissed him a little. It meant nothing... Even you and I have kissed, and that meant nothing." She said dispirited.  
"That's real nice." Arthur nodded sarcastically.  
He walked into that.  
"It's true though, isn't Arthur?" There was heaviness in her voice now.  
"Woman..." Arthur roll his eyes away.  
She was tackling topics he wasn't ready to front. He knew that he should address the previous night, but now wasn't the time.  
"It is true. So why do you even care?" She continued.  
A defeated chuckle escaped his lips, he hung his head in defeat. She knew all the ways to shut him up.  
"I care about what happens to you." Was all he could muster.  
"I've done a lot worse Arthur."  
"Since I met you, you've said that. Like you're morally decrepit. Like you had a hand in any of it. Keep on blaming yourself for what you went through Annabel, and it leads you down paths like this. Engaged to some doctor, running around Roanoke without a clue..."  
"Without a clue, no. Without a care, yes. I knew I could have died out there, you think I didn't know that Arthur?"  
"Then you're just making bad decisions on purpose."  
"Seems like it." She said, turning her back to him.  
Slighted, he took a deep breath.  
"Look... I just don't want to see you in these situations anymore. Let alone because of- would you look at me, woman!" He turned her around to face him. "Just believe me when I tell you nothing is worth that."  
"You're wrong, Arthur."  
He sighed.  
He couldn't convince her. She was, according to him, naive. Someone would have to be to feel so strongly for him. They heard the law whistle somewhere not too far off.  
"Why did you even kiss me?" She asked, wearily. "What did I do then that made you want to?"  
Arthur eyes traced her tired face. The heavy breeze tossed her hair slightly.  
Again, he heard lawmen whistle in the distance.  
"Look... Can we talk about this later? We need to leave town."  
He forced a loud whistle, hoping Buell was around.  
Annabel stood still, her eyes sullen and cast to the ground. Her mind had played this moment out a thousand different ways. Now, after all this time, she felt she had her answer.  
"Look, I'm sorry about last night... I shouldn't have..." He trailed off, trying to choose this words.  
He peered through the fence.  
"You shouldn't have what? Kissed me?"  
"I shouldn't have put you in that position..." he said, glancing around for Buell.  
Annabel rolled her eyes. They both knew he didn't put her in that position, she kissed him first. It was another attempt to get out of disappointing her.  
"Not your problem anymore..." She mumbled.  
"Just because I didn't want to take advantage of you when you were drunk doesn't mean...You know, most people would find that honorable."  
She rolled her eyes.  
She spotted the large horse through the slotted fence.  
"Buell's lost, I can see him." She reported, drearily.  
Arthur whistled again. The horse whinnied angrily and stomped in the direction of the whistle, rounding the corner.  
At the same moment, Annabel saw three lawmen round the same corner. They were the very same who had flanked the market square. Though the guards hadn't see them, they were clearly headed in their direction.  
Two other lawmen grouped up with them, continuing to advance in their direction. She swallowed hard.  
Arthur pulled Buell out of sight quickly and climbed on.  
His hand decended in front of her face.  
"No, go ahead Arthur, I'll divert them, I'll keep them off you some how."  
"What?"  
"Go, make a run for it!"  
"What's this now..." he groaned.  
"I don't want to be some weight that dragss you down. I did this all because I wanted you to have another chance at a life you wanted. And I think I succeeded. I want you to find whatever and whoever it is that makes you happy."  
"C'mon. Enough of this. Grab my hand, let's go."  
He waved his hand in front of her again.  
"No, go Arthur. I won't let you waste this chance by dragging me along. I know you care about me, I know that. But not the way that I care about you. I can't follow you knowing that you're spending your new life appeasing someone else, because you feel you owe them."  
He reached down to grab her arm, but she stepped out of reach just in time.  
"You've spent enough time living for other people, so go." She said.  
The lawmen breached the corner, though their eyes hadn't settled on the two.  
"C'mere!" He reached for her again, before casting a glance up towards the lawmen.  
He growled in frustration.  
"There's no time, go." She said.  
His eyes darted between her and the group of lawmen who had just noticed them.  
"Annabel, enough. I want you to come, ok? Now, please, let's go!"  
She knew better and took a big step back.  
"Hey, you over there!" A lawmen called.  
Arthur pressed his hat against his head anxiously.  
"What do I need to say! I want you to come, I- Look, if you don't come with Annabel I will most certainly return to what I know best. And it will all end the same, that I can assure you."  
"Sir! Ma'am? Raise your hands! We just want to question the gentleman!" Another officer called, slowly approaching.  
Arthur kept his eyes on Annabel, well aware they were running out of time to make an escape.  
"But if you stay, maybe things really can be different." He said.  
She eyed him apprehensively. Certainly he just wanted her out of harms way, he didn't mean any of it. She looked back to the lawmen who were now close enough that she could make out their facial features. They peered at them, sheilding the sun from their eyes as they did so.  
In the moment she looked away, Arthur reached down and grabbed her arm. He hauled her on to the horse, sending a shooting pain up her arm as he pulled her upwards. She cried out.  
Buell lept forward, digging his hooves into the cobblestone and tearing away.  
The lawmen shouted behind them. Their gunfire bounced off the trains and the brick buildings to their side. On one side, the dingy coast line sped past them, and on the other the monolithic trains.  
A whistle blew and caught her attention. Two lawmen on horseback were charging after them. They persued the pair as they veered South with intent to follow the train tracks. The sound of Buell's thunderous hooves changed as he galloped over the tracks.  
Arthur reached around her and fired two shots. When Annabel looked back, the horses were riderless and the bodies tumbled off the narrow tracks into the water.  
Annabel watched as Saint Denis quickly faded in to the distance. She would be fine if she never went back.


	19. Stars and Crickets

Chapter 19: A way out  
Back on the horse, they trudged through the foliage along the outskirts of the Bayou, eager to put distance between them and Saint Denis.  
Arthur's mind raced.  
He reflected on their argument in Saint Denis. She was right about a lot of things. Over the months that he knew her, Arthur had spent a great deal of energy pretending to not understand the way Annabel behaved towards him. At first, the thought of a pretty girl so scarred by violent men in the past, falling in love with an outlaw seemed like the most unlikely explanation for her attachment towards him. She was attached to him because he saved her, it was gratitude that she didn't know how to show. That was the sensible explanation.  
He had done precious little but release the cuffs and give her a ride to town. For her to love him for it would be ridiculous. When he left her in Saint Denis, her reaction staggered him. He fully expected her to thank him for everything and part ways. Maybe she would think of him once in a while, maybe she wouldn't.  
When he woke up at the reservation to find she had returned, he was further baffled. When time and time again she pushed against his rejection, he started to feel real fear. Deep dread.  
He knew full well that he lived a bad life, and accepted long ago that good things don't happen to bad people. She was a good thing. In the past, he had failed miserably to protect those he cared for, in ways he could never forgive himself for. Those memories left a heavy burden on him. The risk was gargantuan. Yet she had said it back in Saint Denis. He was in denial. He was in denial that she loved him. He was also in denial that he loved her. It caused him to worry about her, it caused him to lash out at her, it caused him pain to think what being associated with him could do to her. He would rather renounce his feelings for her than give in and invite all the risk it would bring.  
"Can we stop now, Arthur? I meant what I said back there, I changed my mind about going with you."  
They had put good distance between them and Saint Denis. With no one following them, they had slowed to a trott.  
The moon hung high above them, bathing the landscape in a somber glow.  
"It's probably best if we get more distance while its still dark out." He said.  
Whether he hadn't heard her, or simply ignored her was unclear.  
She pinched him on his side.  
"Ow!"  
"I want off now!"  
"You serious, woman?"  
He halted Buell.  
To his great surprise, Annabel lowered herself off of the horse.  
"Of course, I told you that. I wasn't just saying it for fun."  
She walked to the side of the road.  
"And you're just going to walk away in the dead of night?"  
"I would have been fine in Saint Denis if you had just listened to me."  
"I didn't listen because I think you're lying."  
"Well, good for you, for thinking you have everything figured out."  
She turned her back to him before walking into the woods. She could feel Arthur's eyes on her.  
He groaned and followed her.  
"Wait, wait, now. I don't know what you're playing at but-"  
"As nice as it is to have you chasing me for once, Arthur, I meant what I said back there. I meant what I said. I didn't do this so that you'd love me, I did this because I wanted to. I wanted you to have a second chance where you can live for yourself, they way you want to. Just like you wanted for me, remember? Because I think you're a good man."  
She pushed him away from her, gently.  
He was silent. He'd heard that a lot and it usually fell on deaf ears.  
"If you had wanted me to go with you, then that would have been wonderful."  
She sighed hopelessly as if letting go of the fantasy she had built once and for all. She continued.  
"You can't even imagine... But you don't, and that's... Just how it is. It doesn't change why I did it. The only thing worse than you not wanting me, is me sticking around despite it."  
"Girl..." He said, despairingly.  
"Go do whatever you want to do. Find Mary, go live in the woods, whatever. Except, don't join a gang. As a favor to me, ok? And whatever you do, don't go find Dutch. He isn't the man he used to be. But I think you know that now."  
She detected the subtlest nod from him.  
She cast her eyes upwards at the stars for a moment. It was obvious to Arthur that she was serious.  
"If I leave you here, you'll get eaten alive by a mosquito or something." He said.  
She clucked her tongue.  
"Thanks for your charity Arthur, but that's exactly my point. I don't want you stuck minding me."  
Her voice shook, as she tried to conceal her sadness.  
He held his hands up in defense.  
"Just a joke. I want you to come with me, Annabel, I do. In fact, if you don't come, I will probably just turn into a criminal again. Probably. It's in my nature."  
"That's not true." She said plainly.  
"Oh it is. Look, I'm not lying. I don't want you to go back to Saint Denis, or any other place that you don't want to go. I want you to come with me. Let's get out of here, we can go somewhere new."  
Her brow furrowed a bit.  
"Somewhere new?"  
"Yeah. Leave all this behind."  
"Just us?"  
"Yes."  
Though a glimmer of hope ignited within her, it was almost instantly quenched.  
"Why do I feel like you're lying."  
"Why I would lie?" he challenged.  
"Because you feel like you owe me for helping you and you don't want to turn me away because I'm helpless and weak, and you'd feel to blame if I couldn't fend for myself."  
"Wow. Ok. Well, no. I don't think any of that. I may have, at one point or another, considered you a helpless girl. But I know for sure that ain't entirely true now, don't I?"  
She shrugged.  
"I'm sorry I made you feel unwanted, I'm a fool at the best of times. You forgive me?" He tried with all his sincerety.  
A wary smile formed across her face.  
"Sure."  
"You'll come with me then?"  
She nodded, finding little success in concealing a smile.  
He tilted her chin up and gently kissed her. She pushed into him, revelling in his grip. The same feelings she basked in in Saint Denis came back to her. She felt it in her limbs, her heart.  
To be in love was wonderful, it was more than she ever knew. But to be rejected was the worse pain she'd known yet.  
She groaned against his lips, pressing into him  
The thundering sound of hooves against the dirt road grew from somewhere down the dark road from which they came.  
Arthur pushed her further into the woods, where they hunkered down.  
A number of horses road by.  
"Are they from Saint Denis?" She whispered.  
She could still feel his kiss on her lips.  
"I ain't sure... Maybe."  
They waited some seconds before standing up.  
"Best we make tracks as if it were them. Just in case."  
He whistled for Buell. She couldn't help but revel in the idea that it was just the two of them.  
It was some time before they finally stopped to make camp. Concealed by a barrier of trees, Arthur made a small fire.  
"Do you think it's safe here?" She asked, watching him nurture the fire.  
"I'll keep an eye out, but I reckon it'll be fine."  
He finally sat back, confident the fire had taken.  
"What if you regret this? Bringing me along?"  
"I think the opposite is the more likely outcome, I'm afraid. I don't have a reputation of being the easiest to get along with, especially with the fairer sex."  
He rubbed his jaw, staring into the fire. Her eyes stayed fixed on him, though he was unaware. Her heart fluttered running through the infinite scenarios that lay ahead of them.  
A silence hung. Thinking she might be desperate for a more solid answer, he looked over to her.  
"I am not likely to grow tired of your company. And I hope you don't grow tired of mine."  
"I won't." She said nearing inaudibly, flushed that he had caught her staring.  
Another silence hung and Arthur leaned towards her. Her heart beat wildly in her chest as he kissed her gently. She shifted closer to him, her hands raking through his hair. The intention between them grew; slightly harder, slightly faster.  
She kissed the scar over his chin that she had peered over so many times before. His scruff was rough against her as he made his way down her neck and untied the lace from her bust. He pulled her dress down over her shoulders with some force, causing her to fall into him. She found the buttons on his shirt and undid them in return.  
She pulled her arms out of her dress, her head rolling back as he kissed her neck, down to her collarbone, where he pulled the dress down over her breasts and left it around her waist. He lifted his shirt off in a quick motion. The feeling of her soft body against his was everything he remembered.  
Everything moved slowly for her, as if in a dream. If all she had gone through up until now was the only possible path she could take to get here, then she'd have accepted it willingly. She gently touched his face as they kissed.  
He worked her easily, the sweeping motions of his strong jaw, his tongue taking her over. Her dizzy head spinning, she unclasped his belt and unbuttoned his pants. She could feel the pulsing inside her as she pressed against his body.  
His mouth trailed down to her breasts as he pulled her to the ground. Every wash of his tongue against her chest sent flashes of heat from between her legs causing her to arch against him.  
Her mind warned her that he would stop, just like he had done the night before. The pain she felt that night had nearly ended her. But she was helpless against it. If he wanted to be close to her then she wouldn't refuse. Should he chose to reject her again, she would have to endure it.  
His hand dragged across her body until it reached between her thighs. His lips against hers, he pulled her drawers down until she wiggled out of them. Her mouth lay open in a soft and desperate pant as she became aware of his hand between her legs, sending waves of pleasure rolling over her. The same hands that swiftly and effortlessly loaded bullets into barrels, the same hands which beat and wrestled, killed and saved.  
She arched against his chest, her fingers digging into his shoulders. Feverishly, her mouth found his, weakly and hopelessly trying to form a kiss though her body throbbing under his touch was all she could focus on.  
His jaw slacked as he inched his pants lower, settling between her legs. He couldn't stop himself if he wanted to this time.  
She swallowed hard as he pulled her hips towards him. Her whole body seared with anticipation, her eyes rolled up to him. Her hands gripped his sides, which flexed as he pushed into her. His eyes forced shut as he pushed, causing her to fingers to dig into him as he crowded her insides. His strong jaw slacked as he took a second to acclimate to the sensation.  
It took everything he had not to grab her by the waist and pick up his pace, but he fought it. His hand gripped firmly but gently around her hip as he rocked into her. The thrusting caused her to cry out, she could feel herself coming undone, as her legs clamped against him in a sensation she never felt before and she gripped his shoulders. She couldn't pull her eyes off of his face. The same handsome face she dreamed about kissing so many times, now inches from hers. She kissed him again.  
His attempts to oblige were weak as the physical sensation began to seize him. Both panting, she felt his peak as a growl escaped his mouth. She could feel the heated pressure build as he released inside her. A gasp escaped her lips, her fingertips digging into his shoulders. His body was tense against hers.  
Finally she felt his body relax above her. He hung his head on her shoulder collecting himself, as she wrapped her arms around his neck, her chest rising and falling, her body still tingling.  
Her smell was intoxicating to him and for a moment he stayed there. Slowly his eyes traced the features of her face, looking for signs that he'd crossed a line, though it was too late now.  
She squirmed as he pulled out, feeling her lower body relax. He laid on his back beside her, lifting his pants and buckling them. He watched her as she pulled her clothes back on, in a much more graceful manner than he had. It had been a long time since he'd slept with anyone. He had lots of reasons for it, and he knew very well what they were.  
She combed blades of grass from her hair, nervously before settling beside him.  
Despite what they shared, she still felt it would be some form of imposition to lay too closely to him.  
She lay flat on her back, staring up at the starlit sky, too nervous to break the silence. It would be dawn soon enough, since they had traveled most of the night.  
She heard him swallow hard, and fought the urge to glance his way. Despite her flushed disposition, her head was still swimming from the fantasy of it all.  
He pulled her closer to him, a small but tender act . His body was warm against hers.  
"Where are we going to go?" She asked, for lack of a better question.  
"We'll figure it out tomorrow."  
His eyes on the sky, he reflected on all he was leaving behind and equally all that he gained. He was at a loss for how he would handle their situation but he would make it work for her.


	20. The Beginning

Chapter 20 – The Beginning  
What a strange way to wake up. With a woman who loved him, for one, and who he loved for another. The sun had barely finished rising as streaks of pink and orange still painted across the sky.  
He slowly sat up, unable to keep from waking Annabel. She stirred for a minute while he put his shirt on. He watched her as she fussed with tying her dress back up, something she'd neglected to do the night before.  
Unable to take in any of the scenery surrounding her, her mind was still enthralled in the events of the previous night. Arthur had made his way to the edge of the cliff where she eventually joined him.  
"Where do you want to go?" She asked.  
"Well, it ain't up to just me." He said scratching his scruff.  
She smiled.  
"I want to go anywhere Arthur, I don't care."  
Annabel could see far below to the river bed. She could see the birds fluttering from one rock to another and the deer drinking along the waters edge.  
"Let's go someplace you've never been to, Arthur. Some place where no one has ever heard of the Van der Linde gang." She said.  
And then smiling, she added "Does a place like that even exist? Or are you just too famous of an outlaw?"  
"Maybe..." he said, lost in thought. "Alright. If we can get ourselves out of New Hanover, that will be a good start."  
Arthur kicked the remaining fire embers in on themselves, effectively smothering them.  
She handed him some medicine, which he took.  
"I have something else for you."  
He looked over to see her reach through her bag. He held his hand out to receive more medicine but to his surprise she placed a journal.  
He paused as if he had never seen one before in his life. His eyes traced in the flexible leather cover and clasp.  
"You got this for me?" he asked, almost stunned.  
"Yeah, when we were separated."  
"That's..." He shook his head, smiling. "That's real kind of you."  
"Don't write anything bad about me, though."  
"Thank you." Her joke fell past him, he was again left stunned and frankly confused by her kindness towards him. She kissed his head gently.  
"Let's go." She said.  
Arthur placed the book in the saddle bag and patted Buell.  
"There ain't somewhere you want to go? Surely you have some... I don't know, dream of travelling somewhere."  
He hoped on the horse.  
"Not really... I never told you this, but the same night I met you, I had a dream about you."  
He pulled her on the horse.  
"Did you, now."  
"I dreamt we were together. Like now. When you sent me away, you told me I was going to get a life that I hadn't even dreamed of yet. But I had already dreamt about the future I wanted, I dreamt it the first day I met you. And it was exactly this."  
Fin.  
Author's Note: I hope you enjoyed the story! I have to admit there is an epilogue rolling around in my head, so please feel free to let me know, DM or comment, if there's interest. And if there is, what would you like to see? I have the general idea, but there's lots of potential for adventure along the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: I hope you enjoyed the story! I have to admit there is an epilogue rolling around in my head, so please feel free to let me know, DM or comment, if there’s interest. And if there is, is there anything in particular you'd like to see? I have the general idea, but there’s lots of potential for adventure along the way.
> 
> Thank you very much for reading, I really hope it you enjoyed it!


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